I'm tired of being second
And never being first.
I say I'm fine with the part I play
But man, it really hurts.

I like seeing you happy
I know it's because of her.
I know that you aren't really mine
But sometimes I wish you were.

I'm just a little plaything
To keep you warm when she's not around.
You whisper that you love me
But in your eyes it can't be found.

But I can't make myself not love you
So even though it hurts
I'm content with being second
And never being first.

This poem is about: 


Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741