Ancient Psychology 101
Give me a Big Mac, fries, Diet Coke—
Tomorrow's the diet. That's always the joke.
The dream of a master procrastinator:
"I'll leave him tomorrow...
or maybe later."
I've dated a loser far longer than wise,
Believing old echoes instead of my eyes.
There wasn't a prince waiting patiently there,
Just ghosts in the hallway pretending to care.
I can't post the truth where the whole world can see,
Because then all your lies would unravel for free.
I'm not who you've painted,
not wicked, not wild—
Just someone who finally
quit playing the child.
No—
it's you.
A spineless jellyfish floating with ease,
Bending to crowds with each whispering breeze.
Even old fossils have more of a spine
Than someone who buries the truth every time.
The sting finds the liar.
It always comes back.
No shortcut escapes
an invisible crack.
I've still got my dignity.
I've still got my name.
You traded yours off
for applause and for blame.
So I'm leaving.
No hiding.
No rewriting the page.
I'm done with your circus,
your cowardly cage.
Go play with the dinosaurs,
bones turned to dust.
Keep feeding the ghosts
that you cradle with trust.
They're haunting the corners
that daylight won't claim,
Still calling your number,
still speaking your name.
Teach them to blink
when the truth floods the room.
Teach them to dance
with the scent of their doom.
The tide always rises.
The sea always knows.
It buries the masks
that a coward still chose.
I won't join your herd.
I won't live your lie.
Some curses are broken
the moment goodbye.
Ancient psychology—
nothing has changed.
The ghosts keep the cowards.
The free walk away.
