I might be a monster but now you're no better.
Certainly no angel yourself, see.
More like a black hole or my personal dementor.
Dear, you have your issues like we all do.

I let you dive deep, to my darkest pit.
My biggest fear, my uncease anguish.
Now you think I'm a bundle of bad news.
One with many secrets and a grief too great.
After 8 years of holding my hand,
You
Ran
And then there were none.

Stupid is going to your place, setting a hey it's Sunday surprise, and ignoring the signs.
Stupid is calling and caring with nothing in return.
Stupid is cooking and helping went straight to serving.
Stupid is spending what I have for something I'll never have.
Stupid is expecting us, which never will be.
Stupid is what I no longer am.