Forget me.
Forget the weight of my presence, the echo of my name.
Forget the wrongs I've done,
And the desperate good that tried to mend them.

Forget the running tally of sins and virtues,
The lies I whispered, the truths I bled,
Hoping—just once—for honesty in return.

Forget my complaints, my boasts,
My voice lost somewhere in between.
Forget the scars carved into my skin,
The wounds I gave myself,
The wounds the world gave me.

Forget my purpose, if I ever had one.
Forget the mask of smiles—both the hollow and the real.
Forget the weight of nostalgia pressing down too soon,
And the guilt that trails behind like a shadow.

Forget every word I’ve spoken,
Every friend who stayed, every friend who left,
Those I failed, and those who failed me.

Forget the sleepless nights spent chasing perfection,
The grades I poured my worth into.
Forget the love I carried in my chest,
And the hurt I scattered in its wake.

Forget the sorrow that burned into rage,
The magnifying glass strapped to my face,
Dissecting every flaw, every misstep,
Every moment that could have been different.

Forget me.
Let me slip from memory like a whisper in the wind,
Like ink washed away by the rain.

Forget me.