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I’m a fool.
You reach out to touch me.
Sending me songs, blending with heartache.
Send me texts, crying if I don’t reply.
When I relapse and fall back into your trap, you reel me in, hook, line, and sinker.
Then you forget I exist.
Got what you wanted.
Got what you needed.
Your needs fulfilled, I’m discarded.
April 10, 2024
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