you killed someone

yes, you

you killed someone.

you didn’t know, did you?

you blocked their glow

and snuffed out their flames.

they thought you cared, but it was quite the opposite.

you killed someone.

well, not really. if you have, i’m calling the police.

the kind i’m talking about mostly goes unnoticed. silent.

and no — it’s not a sniper.

you killed someone.

you didn’t use a gun or a knife.

you used your words. your eyes.

they came to you each time —

excitedly, open, beaming.

and you kept chipping away at them.

over and over again.

what did you think would happen?

you watered down their achievements.

stepped on their joy.

overshadowed their problems.

always put yourself first.

now they’re different.

the version of them you used is finally dead.

because you killed someone —

forced something else to be born in their place.

“it doesn’t matter” was your motto,

but what about now?

they don’t talk like they used to.

because what if they get shut down?

they’re not happy anymore.

because why would their happiness matter when you’re there, right?

this is all your fault.

and now?

now?

now you’re saying you miss someone?

it can’t be —

because you’ve snuffed the life out of them.

constantly pressing. shaming.

overrunning. bullying.

sadly, you’ve killed them.

your hands still bloody from a one-sided massacre.

what did you think would happen?

that they’d keep it up forever?

that they wouldn’t break?

that’s not how humans work.

and now you’ve killed someone.

a murderer is what you are.

God, what are you going to do now?

because now you’ve killed someone —

and you want them back?