Maybe now, that limelight you seek

is not as glamorous as you once thought.

Nostalgia replaced with a shield of infamy,

infamy that doubles as shield and sword.

Your eyes grow green with beautiful

unrighteous envy, obvious jealousy.

You’d strike down your best friend to

glow like citric, pour out like acid.

I’m not sure if I know you from somewhere anymore.

I’m not sure if we’ve passed each other in bright lights,

or in dark rooms, or daylight, or barlight, or held hands

or narrowly escaped a world trying to pump us full

of *******. Now you’re just mean in spirit, as a cliche.

You’re Charlie Sheen by way of Kim Kardashian,

You’re plastic by way of cellophane.

If it’s hurts it’s only because I try as hard as you,

it hurts only because this time, I want it to.