Why is it that when I extend my hand you swat it away. I have never done you any wrong, or wished you any harm, Nor have I ever once taken the side of another. I try so desperately to make you happy, to make any wish you have come true. I have stood there while you fell in love with another, I have watched as you raved for another. I was there when he hurt you so terribly you angered at the world. I have always been there at the wings, waiting to catch you when he missed his mark. Yet you never cared for me, never saw how much I yearned for you. I would lift you up and you would fly into his arms once again. I fooled myself every time, every fucking time into thinking that you would at least notice who caught you. All I am to you is a boy who told you he loved you, and you treat me like the rug your dog sleeps under. I feel so ashamed of myself. I am a stupid person, with lies for dreams, doubts for hope, and shit for a soul. Now, even now the air wafts with your laughter, tormenting me, chasing me down deep dark hallways of my memories, thick with images of your face in cruel distortion. The icy air around me suffocates me, I lie wilted like a summer weed in the winter. My manacles are to tight. Scorned by your words, I shall die now.
Thought of a Thinker 