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Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Experience · #1756981
Someone had died. I missed my opportunity to meet them. Voices are Bartleby's and mine.
"It rips open and spills acid inside
What I've done, whom I've hurt
I can't even say that I tried"

"There was nothing you could do
You didn't even know until it was over
You helped when you could, didn't you?"

"It makes no difference, can't you see?
When one survives another is eaten
It's the rule of life, my Bartlbeby"

"Then why must you argue this?
You admit that you played no part
So how could you have made it go amiss?"

"If I never left in the first place,
Maybe I could have been a light
I could have been another friendly face"

"Yet, like you she was, a hidden treasure
Her parents ever-oblivious to her life
Meeting her would have been a pleasure"

"A pleasure I shall never have, Barleby
And it scars me inside, knowing it
Feeling my envy burn, knowing she is free"

"And you rejoice for her freedom, despite your lack
Which proves you chose your name poorly
You're not as heartless as it implies, are you, Jack?"

I laugh at your deduction slightly
Shaking my head, I begin to walk away
"We just met, but you know me too well, B."
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