You.
You. With your pitiful excuses,
Bitter memories and nothing yet for your eulogy,
Watching everyone around you,
Moving on and acting on instinct,
While you sit still,
Procrastinating and destroying yourself,
And what we have built for you,
You breath for sweet relief,
Forgetting temporarily about your pounding head,
Then you return and are overwhelmed,
By what you have trampled on,
What had discouraged you,
And what if, what if you don’t return?
from your impersonation of relief,
from your self loving, self approving, joyous state,
What of you then, will you have left for me…