The you I thought I knew.You flutter along hallways now, and pay no attention to me, why must I be the poignant target for your misanthropy? Laugh it off and tilt your head, I shall not be here for long, you sing your song or melancholy, and I'll sing my instead. Cry your crocodile tears, let them float into the wind. And from your throat let descend the bird who's wings tear from beneath your ribs. Smashing you, slowly, painfully, gently, and truly, until you are most, and definitely dead.I like the way you used to smile, the way you curled your hair. The way your bothersome flustering didn't annoy me, but instead, I just laughed. I'd laugh at how you fumbled, a