Every poem's about who I don't want to write about anymore,
The ones who got away,
The ones who chose to leave,
The ones I pushed out,
All of them

These poems are full of the skeletons from past friends and lovers, gone but not forgotten,
Never forgotten actually,
My mind could never get rid of any of them

I'm feeling it all,
All of them all over me,
Suffocating me,
Radiating a toxic hymn from the depths of everything wrong with this world,
Humming a toon that could only be heard through the ears of the broken,
An apocalyptic afterthought of an apocalyptic messiah

If I choose to die, who will live?
If I choose to live, who will die?

How long until I am forgotten,
How long until I am a skeleton,
How long until I am just an afterthought,
An unpopular opinion thrown onto a popular back burner,
Everywhere I go, I have my back turned,
Everywhere we went, she couldn't look me in the eye,
I can't even look myself in the eye

How long until I forget about you?
All of you,
All of you,
How long?