I don't know; should I feel happy or sad?
I've sifted through every old sentiment in my young heart, but it has made nothing any clearer.
I've screamed in myself, hoping for a reply, but I suppose you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Feelings are so alien, like impositions from above on us lesser beings, who were never designed to handle them.
You all seem to have it so figured out, you people who call yourself friends, yet keep it from me.
But then I wonder; perhaps I am the one with the answer, and it is you who seek it from me.
They say that when you die, you can't take it with you, but that isn't true of a secret.
When I go, I'm taking it with me, and you will all be left to wonder.
I'm sorry; I was a million miles away; did you want fries with that?
I've screamed in myself, hoping for a reply, but I suppose you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.
Feelings are so alien, like impositions from above on us lesser beings, who were never designed to handle them.
You all seem to have it so figured out, you people who call yourself friends, yet keep it from me.
But then I wonder; perhaps I am the one with the answer, and it is you who seek it from me.
They say that when you die, you can't take it with you, but that isn't true of a secret.
When I go, I'm taking it with me, and you will all be left to wonder.
I'm sorry; I was a million miles away; did you want fries with that?
THE END
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