You left, not only me but everything.
You’re a different person, drowning in dark brown liquids,
your judgment clouded by noxious smoke. You used to be a hero,
now what are you? A constant nagging in the back of my mind.
Your memory attacks me, living in the residence, in which you stayed;
but it’s not the memory that leaves me for dead, it's the fact that,
even in the reality that I dwell in you come, uninvited;
demanding me to come to your rescue, when it’s me,
who needs you the most