Pitifully Cliché by VaN SHuttleworth

The words I want to say are pitifully cliché.
The sentences I construct come out mangled.
They come out fucked.
I write and write and write, you see, but
Still, I cannot set this feeling free.

I once stood tall and proud,
No longer exiled from the crowd.
But now I find, once again, that when the one who let me in
Turns to me to throw a stone,
I could not feel more alone.
Broken by my friend—
Defeated,
Cast aside, no longer needed.
Told to hide my thoughts away

Because they’re pitifully cliché.