I've watched you change from a little girl into a big, strong woman. Well, sorta.
You're in 7th grade? Why are you so mature? Again... Well, sorta.
You're only 12, but yet... They grow up so fast. I'm proud of you... Well, sorta.
You try your best to be a good friend. Well, sorta.
You see you're... egh. You hide so much from me and then act like I'm the worst person ever for caring about you, my best friend. Well, sorta. You used to be my best friend. But you don't seem to really care about me. I confront you about something huge you didn't tell me about and then you say something like I'm being a bad friend by "invading your privacy".
I'm done with you. Well, sorta.
Less of a poem and more.... rhythmic writing.
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Aw :(
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