Curiouser and curiouser,

you’ve watched me deteriorate right before your eyes.

What exactly have you done to help?

You watched my skin turn pink, bleed, heal and scar.

You watched my heart soften, break, bleed, heal, scar, and harden again.

Still you do nothing.

Curiouser and curiouser,

you want me to care.

For some reason, you have created a double standard, in which I am to care but you have no responsibility.

And how do you even see that fair?

How do you see that fit?

Curiouser and curiouser,

you’ve found my note, even my original letter, and I know you did; it was found folded on my dresser, when I had left it in the drawer.

You didn’t confront me about it… the thing-of all things-you should.

But I guess I have a way with words and that must mean you didn’t understand.

Curiouser and curiouser,

your lack of curiosity killed me.