It would be nice if you thought I was somebody.
A decade passes or thereabouts and you pass on me like an side dish or salad, you'd rather not.
No thanks, I wont be bothering with that today.
As though our friendship was a meal you're just "done" eating.
What you could once have called our "friendship" is in ruins
And all that's left when you're "done" with me
are the tattered remains of a once great civilization of camaraderie.