Funny how it happened, isn't it?
How you traded me in for her
a younger, quieter shadow
of everything I once was to you.
And the irony?
I was the one who brought her to you,
offered her to the circle,
thinking kindness was currency
and loyalty unbreakable.
You wouldn't have noticed her otherwise.
She wasn't like the others you used to choose
too soft-spoken, too small, too kind,
not your usual type to cling to your orbit.
But something about her,
something I unknowingly gave her,
made her fit into your world
better than I ever could.
Did it start with whispers?
The kind of stories
that crawl under skin and spread like ivy?
Did you sit with her late at night,
repainting my face with your words,
erasing the laughs we shared,
the secrets I gave you
like they were yours to keep?
And the others
the ones who once called me friend
what did you feed them?
What poison did you mix
with your charm and your smirk?
Did you tell them I was too much?
Too loud, too fragile,
too selfish to stay in your sunlight?
It's cruel, you know.
To look back and see the ashes
of what I thought was solid.
To realize the warmth I felt
was the fire you lit under me,
burning the bridge
even as I kept walking forward.
I wonder, do they know?
Do they see the strings you pull,
the lies you weave
so tightly they feel like truth?
Or do they sit in the glow
of your manufactured sincerity,
grateful to be chosen
while I am left in the dark?
But here's the thing about shadows:
they linger, even after the light fades.
I was your shadow once
following, loyal, unseen.
Now, I watch from afar,
seeing the same patterns,
the same selfish cycles
repeat with your new constellation.
You replaced me,
but you'll replace them too.
One by one,
they'll see the cracks in the mirror,
the weight of your words
when they shift, when they twist,
when they turn against them
like they did against me.
And when that day comes
when they wake up and find
they are standing on ashes too
I won't be there to comfort them.
I won't be there for you either.
I've built a new bridge,
stronger than the one you burned.
So keep her,
keep them,
keep the stories you spun
and the lies you told.
Because funny, isn't it?
How you'll always need someone else
to hold you up.
