do you often dissapear?
what makes you leave us here?
and how can you return
without the feeling of resent?
when we haven't seen the likes of you in ages.
presence=worth
hard to maintain at lost touch.
my senses are dead ends,
your pockets have holes.
let us slip through - our worth to you.
meaningless unless proven otherwise,
far too late for that.
your story isn't real,
you friends are not my deal.
for you, i cannot feel.
this is not time to pretend,
you turn my head ugly on the inside and out,
and without a doubt, you're expired.
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