day seven

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number seven. it's been a week.
today, you and your crew abused me
you called me weak.
kacchan, i love you.
you dont love me back.
oh, i just wished you loved me
so i wouldn't feel like crap.
but i know what i am to you.
im not a friend,
nor am i an enemy.
i'm a punching bag to be used
freely.
is it because im quirkless?
because i cant do things you can?
i admire you,
i really do.
but sometimes you can be a jerk.
thats bad,
especially when my depression can lurk
about.
hey kacchan,
thank you for being someone admirable.

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