Untitled #3

Don’t you get tired of this,

Running back and forth, looking for a place to tell you otherwise

Where growth is allowed and your’e not stuck all by yourself

 

Now, catch me in the middle of the darkest room

Left thinking about all that I gave

To a man who never bothered to come home

 

Now, you’re left with nothing to hold but the memories of me

And an old stack of postcards

That remind you of what there used to be,

 

Before the cold drew into your home

Now, she is changed and you regret everything

Sitting in the chair, with nothing left to do.

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