Maybe I should have done more?

I cleared these hands out for you
I set my fists on fire
I let in high tide
I rid the world of the inability to love you
I set forth a bookcase full
Of the stories
That I wrote
So you'd be happy
And it wasn't enough
It wasn't enough
Because you are still not here.

{Author note: (ha, ha like I'm an author) I now know the ending to a lot of these poems put in draft mode and also why they are put in draft mode.)

Dear who think I'm dumb:

When I'm talented and at least a little in the same relation of those you consume for entertainment;

You are truly eating off my dinner plate and Sh***** all over me.