It’s just me and my shadow.
The way I move,
makes him rattle.
If he could speak.
He’d tweak.
With the impulse to tattle.

Regret is the aura around him,
forced to watch his owner suffer.
Forced to see many things,
including some fake lovers.
He watched his owner carve,
all their letters on his heart.
Force to be a bystander,
as I do drugs super hard.

It’s just me and my shadow.
If we could talk,
He’d babble.
If he could speak,
he’d be my...