Ficlets

Fly on the wall

Blank and vacant
Sole and stagnant
Trying, but not very hard
Listening, but just barely
Looking but not trying to stare

I’ve turned into this
Maybe I should feel bad for only caring about myself
But who else has cared about me?
Sometimes theres only one left who knows me
I think the world of myself,
But the world doesnt care

So this is it then
Don’t talk to me unless you have something good to say
I don’t need your cynical criticisms, they’re just a little too much

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