All that was lost, 

Was what one wanted to lose, 

Because it meant nothing anyway, 

Stirred no heart, 

Its ceasing to exist causing no grief,

A chosen end by a loathsome deceiver. 

For if it had meant anything, 

It would have been fought for.

Now only an excuse for attention,

From what is not real. 

And all it ever was. 

Proof of an insincere existence, 

A corrupt soul.