No Room for The Motions of Drama

I've been written off before,

By people who didn't matter,

And shared no blood

Nor DNA.

I cleansed myself of them

And tended to the wounds.

I've been cast aside too many times

For shallow, hopeless things

For assumptions,

For damages,

For simple words unsaid.

So what's new about us?

If I were still that Summer Child,

That hopeful sprite,

That faithful scamp,

Perhaps this would hurt more.

But alas--

I am nobody,

And this is to be expected.

A walking desert,

A sullen vessel,

A woman of other worries--

I cannot stop to die

Just because you're done with me.

I was warned,

And never listened...

And now the curtains have been drawn.