You. I wish you, well.
Though they wouldn’t
think I mean it. I’ve always,
meant it. But, meaning doesn’t
carry far when you’re thought to be
a demon. The worst interpretation of
your actions; publicized for all to know. For,
all to see. To, hate you for. Though, it’s the
indifference to my existence that burns
the worst and I bet they’ll rejoice knowing
there’s ever salt in these wounds.