I feel so small and unimportant. Maybe I was never meant to be more than a fleeting thought. A disappearing memory; a false attempt at love, A stepping stone in the direction of anyone else. There are so many βmaybesβ filling my tear ducts to the brim. Like maybe you didnβt love me, And Maybe this is how Iβll finally drown. Suffocated by my own tears, And ripped apart by your emptiness.
Maybe .n.o.t.h.i.n.g. is all we were ever meant to be.
Whoever has my voodoo doll, can you please please please stop stabbing me in the ribs?