You sold out on me.

You give me butterflies, but they aren't the good kind anymore.
They are the empty kind. The kind when there's no lining on the insides because you took it all away.
Such a small part of me, yet right now it seems so great.
I didn't even know you had it.
You once were like me, different and strange and I liked you, because you were like me.
You made me feel not so alone.
But you sold out. You're just like the rest now, following the crowd, and with something beautiful on your arm to show for it.
Well, I hope its worth it boy.
I hope you like your glory.
Maybe one day you'll realise that it's all hollow.

Then again; I think you'll still pick that beauty and that glory over me.