People throw around “I love you’s”
Like they’re picked fresh from a tree
And yet they stop to wonder why
It’s seldom said by me.
They trade it like its a commodity
Use it up, then go get more
Doesn’t matter if it’s fresh or not
Or slightly bruised before.
I used to wait at that same tree
Only to give away what I had gathered
And others took it happily
My efforts never mattered
When the tree was finally barren
All of its fruits picked clean
I picked up what had fallen
And it was toxic to me.
The rancid taste of love
Was the bitterest of pie
So the words “I love you”
Seem to be the biggest lie.
For the pits will leave you choking
Swallowing your own blood
