Complaints

If I begin to complain,
About all the things that went wrong,
Some might call me a narcissist,
I suppose they might be right.

But here's the thing about being the one,
Who fucked up everything good,
You manage to beat yourself up,
Then you get beat up by everyone else.

I'll take your pain,
I'll take the hurtful things you throw at me,
Even though I'm hurting myself enough,
Whether you know it or not.

There's only one path I can see,
If I want to convince you to come back,
But I fear you will have already left forever,
Already begun to hate me,
Never to talk to me again.

And that scares me more than anything.