Untitled
Lots of things, tend to get in the way
"Don't see me cry", I felt you say.
To feel such pressure in your hands
to know you've fallen and have yet to land.
Is it fear, or perhaps its fate
why is it your life, you seem to hate?
To be led through and stuck alone
to have to ask, "I call this home"?
You look closed in, I'd say its true
someone must be rubbing off on you.
No comments:
Post a Comment