You.
You're not who you used to be.
You know that.
I know you do.
But you also don't know who you used to be.
You were never strong-willed and you were never really happy.
I knew you better than you knew yourself.
You were never vivacious and you were never independent.
You always fed off of someone, and that someone was mostly me.
You hate who you have become.
Well, I hate you too.
Part of me almost wishes that we ended this when we had a chance.
Because you've destroyed what made me
Me.
You destroyed yourself.
This poem is about:
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: