I'd give you my thanks for being a friend, but you never were a very good one. . .
I'd give you my condolences for your loss, but I don't care that much. . .
I'd give you anything within my power, only if you'd ask. . .
And, of course, if you had given me the respect I believe I deserved; if only a little more
I still find you delightful, your smile, your laugh, but I no longer receive sustenance from these things
My life is dull, but you still give off your vibrant aura
I hate you so much, but I can't help but smile when you come around
I feel as if you find it funny that I am in this much pain. . .
I can't find it in my heart to forgive you; I don't think you can gather enough compassion to say you are sorry
So, we sit at this impasse with nothing more to say
I belittle you in so many ways, but why do I feel like the insignificant one when you are the scum of the Earth
Your ability to brush off my words annoys me to no end, but it is a skill I wish to possess
Why do the ones who do n