A Lot to Hate You For

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I know you.
Not well, but enough to we'd get along.
If we were friends.
Bad week perhaps? That's what I keep telling myself.
You've stolen something. Something I had my hands on.
I thought things would play together nicely. But you damaged things. Messed them all up so that I can barely find the pieces.
Can't you see? Are you blind? Realize what's off limits.

Of course I deny it. What girl wouldn't? But I think you know.

And the worst part is, you don't even know. I can't even blame you from steeling my happiness.





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