Do you even realize how you sound right now?

I remember you. And you've forgotten what I know. What you taught me.

I remember your shadows. I can still see them lurking, a constant. Don't you try and shine that damn fool light on them, I will break each and every bulb.

I will break you.

Stop trying to stand up. Could you just be honest with me?

Lose the smirk. I hear your demons scratching at the back of your throat, and you're not scaring anyone but yourself anymore.

Perhaps everyone else likes to pretend they don't see you curled in upon yourself, tracing out a cannibalism you thought you'd gotten rid of. It's always you on the paper.

Maybe they really don't see it. Oh, I pity you.

It's never going to go away, this sickness. Hell, I'm never going to go away.

The sooner you accept all of this the sooner I can help you, or spit at you, or let whatever that's going to happen happen.

So please, can we just get this over with?