What you can't seem to remember,
is that I
remember
everything,
I cling to every barren string of hope
and ask with wide-eyed
innocence
if you hate me
I disect each word
written, spoken, hidden,
I walk between the lines
collecting the crumbs left behind
piecing together the puzzles I make with my own mind
but they're not as pretty as the words you speak,
the pictures rip me to shreds
as I'm forgotten, hour after hour
left unmentioned
and only in convience am I beckoned.
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