It's hard to hear your name.
It's hard to talk about you, when I know nothing about who you really are.
I want to believe that you are different.
I want to believe that you can show others who you truly are.
Because I only saw the part that wanted nothing good for me.
Do you care?
Do you miss me?
Do you ever hear my name?
Does the memory of me ever keep you up at night?
Do you ever want to cry, because of what you did?
Why won’t you admit it?