On Reality

I’m angry at you.

I’m angry at me because it’s not your fault.

–but it is–

you made me feel good;

you made me feel like I was worth

something–

but you don’t even think so:

you made a fool out of me.

I am worthless even to

you.

I don’t even think you meant to give me

that original impression…

but I’m embarassed and angry

all because of the false sense of Love

I was so thrilled to be part of

only to realize

it wasn’t real

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