Why is it you only hit me up when you’re mad at your man? Is it because you know I’ll hold your hand? Give you a shoulder to cry on, and understand. You’ll go back, and I’ll sit here wondering, when will I make a stand? After every time I tell myself, “no more being your emotional crutch. Never again will I put myself out there to support the stupidity of out all.” You’re afraid of change and I get that, but obviously you’re unhappy. But then again, I will continue to sit here waiting because I know you’ll need me. To brush away the tears, and boost you back up. Because I am strong even though inside I feel like crumbling, and it’s what I do because I care about you.