Lost

For a while I thought I understood the definition of responsibility.
Being on top of your craft, your friendship and hopefully your financial boundaries.
I've never been a good book keeper. I can't keep my checkbook straight to save my life.
However, I've always considered myself as a responsible being.
I try very hard to make sure whoever crosses path with me know exactly what he or she is getting into.
I'm wild, passionate and often times I can be overwhelming.
At least I don't lie.
I lay my heart down in front of my loved ones and pray to stars that it won't get tread on.
Even it does get tread upon I pull back those broken pieces and eventually lay it down again.
Am I foolish? One might think so.
I would like to think I'm the most blissful fool alive.
At least I've loved once or twice or how many times I get to.
Please don't tell me that you're disappointed in me because of things that don't matter in the end.
Don't tell me that you love me and stab me in the back over and over again.
You don't need me in your life. That's the living proof.
If a father and daughter relationship that you want is a simple hello or goodbye then so be it.
I will be your wonderkind.
But don't expect anything more if that's how you want me to be treated.
I'm done. I'm tired. I'm broken and bruised from inside out.