the dill weed mirror
my heart still yearns for her.
i won’t lie about that.
but the bullshit? the ego? the noise?
it’s the same tired act i already know too well.
reminds me of dill weed — puffed-up pride, a crown that folded the moment it faced weight.
and that’s the mirror:
her coldness, his arrogance — same reflection.
same fragility dressed as power.
same paper-thin crown.
if i fall for the shine, i’ll keep feeding the loop.
if i chase the warmth, i’ll keep ignoring the cold.
but the mirror doesn’t lie.
so yeah, maybe my heart pulls.
but my silence cuts deeper.
because some candles can’t stay lit,
and some crowns were never metal to begin with.
🐀🔥
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