There's ringing in my ears, people are talking. About me, about what I've done and who I've hurt. But I hope to god, it's not you, my love, the one I hurt. They say time heals all wounds but mine never will. Leaving me behind, bruised and scarred with a bottle of pills. She followed me into darkness and I let go her hand. Naive and foolish had no leg to stand. So here I am, I ran. Cowardly without a second glance. Her walls closed in as I quickly escaped. Started to lose her breath as she came to her fate. Beaten and broken, she limps through life all sad and alone. Praying for a Prince Charming, to sweep her off her feet. Until then she will continue to weep. Cause she can't stand the way that she feels. Beaten and broken, the tears continue to stream. Not up but down her life goes as everything comes to a halt. So she pops a couple of pills, downs a bottle, and waits for her heart to start and throttle. The pain consumes her entire life, she doesn't exist anymore. All there remains are her broken pieces along the ****** floor.

I always push people away
And wanted them back after
I always played cupid to the one I love
Cause I'm afraid he wont accept me
I always feel rejected
Or it was just me?
I'm afraid I'll ended up alone
Cause no one will accept the real me

For she wanted to tell him those 3 words
Before she finally fell asleep
But she's afraid of the possible outcome
So she decided to settle with 'good night'
And waves goodbye to *him

You're searching for even the slightest validation for your inexcusable actions, transient in both values and the physical realm, collecting conquests and usurpees like how one might collect trophies from animals they hunt, faces frozen in a false expression with unseeing glassy eyes as they are forever immortalised in your sick collection to be made a mockery of long after the passage of time takes it's toll on both the images and the subjects.
A calculated maliciousness disguised as an indecisive personality, you are a bottom-feeder grafting onto the bellies of whomever are blissfully unaware or trusting enough to swim by you; but your own is yellow as a summer's day is long; not from just cowardliness, no, but from **** (sans the vinegar), and I wish I could compose this prose into something a little less hateful and a little more tasteful, but I won't spare you another second of my time, I'll erase you from my mind.

Dear You,

It was in your eyes, the color of bravery
The look that tells you, "I am capable"
But I am not
It was in your heart, the art of never letting go
The type of person that is willing to soar
But I am not
I am afraid
Too afraid to talk to you and feel your embrace
Because any second might be the last
And I cannot handle that
I am sorry
For being a coward
For being selfish
For being broken
For being me

From,
Aphraeyd