This Poem Isn't About Anyone

sometimes i think about our friendship. there's nothing worth salvaging, i just remember when we hated ourselves with a passion that belonged to an empty past we found ways of lighting matches and setting flames to things that we never even knew existed and then the king of marionettes tied strings to all his enemies and the ones he should have trusted most were considered unpredictable because he did not control them and so he hated us all and i cried because i think i may miss who we used to be

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