We had promised ourselves lies

From shoveling up the ocean waves,
To building sandcastles in the snow,
I’ve come to the conclusion that my life means nothing at all.
Because I keep patching up the holes,
Mending the rips and tears,
That have nearly fabricated within the very depths of our sisterhood.
I bound them very carefully with duct tape, hope, and love.
I tried all I could have done to fix what had broken apart,
I being blind sighted, was so convinced that it was going to be ok in the end.
Because it’s always ok in the end…isn’t it?

We were one of a kind and so happy inside.
It was all of us for one, and one for all.
With nothing but the deepest regards.
The strong and ever-divine bond we believed to share,
It went deeper than simply friends.
It was almost family. It was home.
A sense of togetherness and empathy strung us close,
And truly, I thought it would last.

Stuck inside this bubble, it could be a teardrop perhaps?
Watching from a distance, the way you can feel so happy
Without two, three…without me.

The city is burning.
It’s being engulfed in treacherous flames.
And we were those pillars holding it in place, holding us in place.
Each of equal fault, we allowed all that we knew to collapse.

Not so brilliant and no longer blessed.
An emotional tempest fogs my judgment,
Sending me back to delirium.
In these times I often let my mood swings get the best of me,
And smile so much less.

It’s true when they say,
You don’t know what you have until it is gone,
Because it isn’t until it is too late,
When you realized that you’ve fucked up.
I took friendship for granted. I wonder what else I’ve taken for granted?
It’s so sobering, so damn cold to contemplate.
I fear I’ve grown out of my innocence,
And moved into the real estate location of a cynic’s mind.
Now it’s me who has hit the ground,
And my heart is too tired to get back on track.

To you, I am just another minor setback,
Another one of your casualties.
I am the peasant that you’d kill just to avoid,
And make sure I never reappear again.

You are the one atop your throne,
Embedded with the rarest gems you’d protect more than you ever had with me,
Pampered to death, and bored with life.
So used to bathing in minerals, that you aren’t likely to settle for less.
And alas! I am easily forgotten.
Like a child’s ragdoll that is tossed aside for goodwill,
I am the last resort. In fact, I AM your last resort.

If we all took a walk down memory lane,
It would only pain me more so than before.
So yeah, sure. Life is what you make it,
BUT WHY CANT I MAKE THINGS RIGHT?

I’m too stubborn to turn this frown upside down.
But also too emotionally fatigued to sometimes even give a damn.
I remember those days,
When we crossed our hearts and pinky promised,
That none of us would ever drift apart.
I wonder promises even mean?
All promises have become nearly valueless to me.
Trusting is already hard enough.
And so we promised ourselves a lie,
Because I. . .I was left behind.