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Let Me Out
Sometimes… No, all the time; I feel like a genie in a bottle. Your genie. Locked in this two story brick bottle that you can access whenever you please. I sit and I wait for you to come home and pop in and ask my advice. I fix your problems. I advise you on work, friendships, and love and always make you feel better. I fix your hair. I point you in the right direction. And after that you leave. You go to work. To dinner. To hang with friends. Barely managing to remember to say goodbye to me. Your genie. Sometimes you take me out. Stick me in your purse and gush about how great I am and all that I do for you. I come off bitchy and ungrateful of all that you do for me… But sometimes I feel like you don’t do much for me. You’re never home unless you have nothing better to do. We only talk when you need something fixed. But I’ll always fix it. Cause I’m trapped in this bottle until you pass me onto someone else. To fix someone else’s problems and mend there broken hearts. But when will someone mend mine.