twisted life

I’ll stand and i’ll dust off my old worn out jeans
and i’ll say, “sorry, but i have to leave.”
and i’ll grace out of the room with the prowl of a tiger
with my head held like never before, ever higher

i’ll walk out with barely a whisper
i’ll stalk out with nary a shout
i’ll rid you of me with a simple goodbye
with my held still held up high.

Don’t you walk away
that’s my job
don’t you stare in dismay
i enjoy that.

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