Broken egos.
I found you in one piece
On the floor.
Sitting
The same old way
With your head in your hands.
What does it take
To be a linchpin.
Will your cinders always burn
The same way you wanted them to.
All these years later
Scraping by.
Your idioms have been constant.
Nothing changes,
Because the truth was
You were happy.
Still are.
Just afraid to admit it.
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