(Un)Fair Weather Friends

Crumbling, I break off pieces of myself and

hand those caring pieces to others without

thinking about myself. People demand

more and


Do not ever think to once ask me how

I am feeling, despite my cries for help being

typed out in a standard front that  everyone

can read

Because my handwriting is


And I do not want my feelings

and my heart misinterpreted. I’ve

not actually asked for help, but I am

telling everyone how I am




in this standard front that everyone

suddenly cannot read nor see

And I think I am expecting


Too much


to expect those who burrowed into my

heart to actually see if I am okay just

because I do the same for them.




How ridiculous that I believed that

anyone really cared. Most

people chase the summer sun, and

those lost withing the winter

cold are battling their own storm.


Fair weather friends, (un)fair weather friends.


K. Thwaites


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