I feel nothing but remorse for you.
I abhord everything we talk about,
and everything we do.
Anything that is left of "We" is
 slightly less than tragedy.
Yet, you pathetically believe
 that you and I are meant to be.
I close my eyes and hope and pray
 in vain that you will go away.
Why do you refuse to see that
 your persistance is futility
Your like a slow death to me
 holding back the air I breathe