frequency's on high; i'm a cliché
standing in the rain
for i feel superior
that only i can hear
your somber voice
and i've got an inkling
things aren't, so
you're letting go
of something i will not allow
myself to blow.
what's the cause for quiet end?
why did i bend
until my breaking point
expecting you to mend
my tired heart?
i had it all wrong,
but now you're gone
it's funny how failure can last so long
and i'll never be able to fix what went unsaid.
i really am so young.
and this dance is draining me,
and this action is shaming me,
and this time you're blaming me,
i am naked in the middle of a thornbush. |
Submission Name: Young.
