the rest is up to them

she asks for advice,

smiles and gloats,

on and on how lucky she is.

yet she doesn't know.

with every word she's shoving a dagger into your heart.

with every word she's laughing at your hurt.

but she doesn't realize,

or she might, and doesn't care;

she won the prize.

she just walked across the stage asking you to hold her train,

she won the battle, but at least you can move on.

so you do, but then when you're finallly over it, it comes back,

asking for you, but you gave up long ago.

there's no right thing to do.

so you do nothing.

and you live your life outside of her shadow.

the next is up to them.