To You:
You know you were wrong for every single thing you did. The suffering grows only more you can see, I'm burning inside and I'm hating the feeling of never knowing where you are. So write me a letter that means nothing to you, fill it with things you know you'll never do. Because you know I'm too sensitive and a bit too shy to see like the way it is in your eyes. I can't bear to hear you suffering, suddenly stuttering, saying you didn't mean what you did before, but not having the heart to apologize for every single one of your lies that hurt me so bad I can't even cry. This is to you who broke my heart, made me cry, tore me apart, or wished I would die. This is to you who made the tears and compressed the pain until all I felt was fear in the endless reain. And this is to you who made me see how much it hurts to finally be not enough worth. This is to you who made me skies seem grey, and this is to you who makes my eyes seem fake, and this is to you who made my pain so deep, and this is to you who made the rain in my sleep. You know you were wrong for what you did. The suffering grows only more as you see, I'm burning inside and hating every ounce of me. So write me a letter that means nothing to you, I'll break into tears because it's just the thing to do. And I'll feel like it's real because that's exactly how it goes. It's always "kill the feeling so that nothing real shows." So write me a letter that will mean nothing to you, break my heart and act like you had no clue. Rip me apart and watch me cry, sit and pretend that you just don't know why.
Just do one thing: Look in the mirror to see the truth and know that this was written for no one but you.