'Gorgeous' is the word I say.
It's what I'll call you.
Gorgeous like the star of the morning.
Guess Lucifer was intrigued by your creation that mimicking was his thought.
That grand hoax that cause him his place in the heavens.
However, I don't see much of that person in your voice or in the art you create.
Certainly, there's something off about you since we stopped hanging out.
Like you cleaned up your soul and buried it's scent.
But my mind still hold pleasant memories. Memories, I and zukerville won't forget in a hurry.
You see, now you spend most of your quiet time playing improved version blame-games.
How did you get from that to this?
If you couldn't have me, wouldn't it be fair to hold unto yourself?
Then, you called me teacher and friend,
so what were the lessons learnt?
Listen when I say, lately I've gotten no new trophies.
My only prize is recalling that my good-self lives in you. The self you are letting die.
I thought we spoke about this severally?
I thought you grew enough confidence to breathe through days I won't be around?
I wish you lots of good stuff but above all, I wish you have faith in you.
And I'll end this note with saying this:
Being part of your building process doesn't mean I'll get the Master's room.
I was only a phase.
And if you lose faith in you now that makes everything a waste.
That way we'll be epically screwed!