I love how every little poem is directed at me..
Although it feels like a stab..
I will just ignore it even though it hurts..
Just like a scab..
That continues to be picked..
But, I used to trust you.
Used to love you.
Now you see that I am done.
And that I'll stop bothering you.
So understand..
I'll probably skip your class.
I won't pass.
But, it won't matter after awhile.
So just pretend everything is okay.
That's fine with me.
