I can hear you.
I haven't faded to that extreme.
Yet I find myself weary to respond.
I realize the trouble I caused for you.
And I don't want you suffering because of me.
Loneliness is a curse.
But it's not half as bad,
As knowing that I'm the problem.
The warranty is expired.
There's no fixing a broken soul.
And I've decided to spend a lot more time
With my friend Misery.
She loves my company, after all.