Unoticed Reality

You were oblivious.
Oblivious to everything.
You weren't aware of my constant unhappiness.
You didn't know the pain.
Because I hid it well.
And I think I liked it that way.

But then you found them.
The hand-written notes,
the emails,
the text messages,
my pleas for sanity.

You watched my emotions go
from
depression,
to misery,
to sadness,
to annoyance,
to anger,
and rage.

You watched as my plan unfolded before you,
and you were horrified.
And then you read this poem as it fell open in front of you.

You knew that you had to kill me before I got the chance to do the same to you.

So you did.

But alas, you had not read until the end of this poem.

So you killed me, without the knowledge that I was really innocent,

and this was just a poem.

Idiot.

~Amy, Quick to Decide, 6/23/09