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You left me used,
suffering under your words.
I’m sorry that I wasted breath defending you;
that I wasted time soul searching for you.
You wouldn’t do it for yourself.
I’m sorry you have turned into who you are.
Go ahead, I can handle it, point your fingers at me,
But go on,
are your own hands clean?
I’m sorry I looked so hard in you
to find the girl that I know is still there,
only to have the updated model shut me out.
I’m sorry you’ve changed.
I’m sorry we changed.
I’m sorrier that you will never see in yourself what I saw in you,
and I’m sorry to say that I just have to give up on trying to make you.
Years of so much were wasted,
and you changed over time,
and I’m sorry for that, too.
I’m sorry that you’re too good now,
and I’m sorry that I’m not quite good enough.
So take your joint, your beer and your attitude,
take your two friends
(I’m sure they’ll change, too).
And when you’re ready to say I’m sorry,
I’m sorry, but I won’t be there to hear you.