It was funny, That I didn’t care. That I wasn't enough. That I didn’t do—enough. It was sweet, How you assumed I was grand— “Ignoring” me. It was spiky, That I did nothing, That I rebelled. It was ironic, That I expected… Yet again. It was delicious, How you repeated the same— Calling me tyrannical. It was cold, The coaster relived, Like nothing had happened. It was tangy, That I was overbearing. I still am. Most of all, it was grieving… That I never talk. Neglected, amidst the care. Guilty of being selfish. And it’s hurting— That I still miss sé. — Myth ---