Shake my head at this cliché shit
hit me hard and please dont miss
I want your wrist to ache as much your heart
I want you to reminisce,
open up and fall apart
cause the past is art.
Im always a little bit broken
a little bit torn, a little bit sore from rejection
this hopelessness feels like a thorn
Yet we'd do it all over again
Put ourselves on display, projection
for a little perfection
for a little affection....
Just point me in the right direction
in the meantime, Ive built a collection
of composition books
full of words by selection
thats where you'll find my honesty
where I'll always be sincere
If there happens to be a loss of words
I'm sure I filled that page with tears
turn the page and you'll find my biggest fears
because this is real poetry here.