Morning comes, sunlight sneaks through the blinds,

coffee’s waiting, toast and jam by your side.

I wash, I cook, I iron, I fix your mess,

you’re the king behind your screen, dreaming your quest.

When you need something, you shout out my name,

but when I’m crying soft, you’re lost in your game.

Your worlds are loud, but my heart’s just a ghost,

I’m tired of being the shadow you love the most.

So I’m packing my bags, leaving you here,

go back to mama — she’ll wipe every tear.

Back to your bedroom where nothing goes wrong,

‘cause a wife ain’t your maid who begs to belong.

Your life’s just levels, high scores and wins,

my world’s a silence that screams from within.

You want me to shape every hour you waste,

but I’m not your mother — just a woman misplaced.

When I’m falling down, you scroll on your phone,

my dreams fade out — you don’t even know.

Your “big man” pose is a boy’s cheap plan,

I want a lover, not a half-grown man.

So I’m packing my bags, leaving you here,

go back to mama — she’ll wipe every tear.

Back to your bedroom where nothing goes wrong,

‘cause a wife ain’t your maid who begs to belong.

You see just yourself, your goals, your schemes,

my heart’s a bucket where love rots in dreams.

I’m closing this hotel, keys on the floor,

find you another — I won’t fight anymore.

Morning will come, your game waits on the chair,

but the kitchen’s silent — no warmth in the air.

No clean shirts, no soft words to say,

just empty rooms echo: “I was here — I walked away.”