it's funny
how quickly you can be discarded
when something better comes along.
deep down you know it's your fault,
but you decide to pity yourself.
you flip through their photos;
smiling faces gleam back at you.
"why wasn't i invited?"
that small and jealous child
that lives in my mind whines at me.
this child quickly becomes a glooming figure.
a figure of some black fog
that seeps through my veins
and swallows me whole.
this is the autobiography of a second choice.
the choice they forgot about.
the choice they see
when all the smoke is clear,
and one sad, sullen apparition awaits;
wanting to be chosen.
with my head down,
and my hopes high,
i walk with them.
