Full Lungs Bursting

I wrote and rewrote the last prose 8 times
lingered and dithered over the last 3 lines
I'm out, running dry on anger now
just solemnly owed, not quite devout
there's only one way to tame a naughty child
through mild mannered will and acceptance
reluctance to raise a hand is suggested
trust nothing told, tried or tested
it was you who said it, not me
but I'm too exhausted to fight
you're just stubborn and I'm bored now
eager to shed you, I'm finally beginning to forget you
like I've said a dozen times, it wasn't you it couldn't have been
it only was, it must have been, the situation in which I was encased in
because there's really not that much to you. Pretty boring, not quite pretty
ill mannered and self repressed, all to eager to get undressed
though I  don't know why you would, I'm ever so sorry sweetheart
but you're really not so good.

2010