I am sitting with my back
Against the wall
Just listening again
To your delusional diatribe:
How wonderful you really are
Once the drugs are gone
How wonderful you always were
If only we could all just understand
Each time you say it
I become a little smaller,
Shrink into the wall
Until I am a part of it:
Stoic cold stone
No longer me, only
Part of the bland, white paint
That goes unnoticed and untouched,
Rooted indefinitely
Into obscurity.
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