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Rachel T Nov 2014
I can't decide
which is the hardest:
firsts, or lasts.
Rachel T Nov 2014
I never thought that
A friendship
Could hurt this much.
Rachel T Nov 2014
I didn't stop hurting until
I put you into poetry
Rachel T Nov 2014
I feel myself becoming bitter
As the world's facade begins to fade.
The sweetness cannot mask the grit forever;
Now I taste it between my teeth as I try to smile.
Perceptions dim and twist.
Reality finally makes itself known.
I fight the cynicism -
It wells up in my throat like bile.
Determined not to let it change me,
Feeling it corrode my innocence like acid.
Is everyone like this?
Was I just too blind to see it?
Rachel T Nov 2014
My words are not dependent
Upon your smile,
They will stay
Whether or not you do.
You are not my Muse.
I am my Muse.

— The End —