There's only one thing I could ever say,

to describe how I hated every day.

The days I waited up all night,

because I couldn't sleep until you made it home alright.

A memory of mine you never even knew,

because when you arrived, I'd hide and avoid you.

This is one of those things I did for you.

Still, you ask,

"What am I to you?"
• • • • •

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