Since you left, I can’t write.

Waking up in the morning,

My brain aches, my eyes are red and my stomach is queasy.

If only you had been honest.

Your cause wasn’t at fault.

It was your method.

Lack of empathy, lack of respect, lack of maturity.

When you decide to grow up,

Perhaps then you’ll see the destruction you caused.

Though I jot this down just to vent,

I hardly deem it a great work of literature.

If you praise it, praise yourself

For making me feel the disgust that propels these words.