Coming back for what you've lost,
Fumbling with the iron locks.
Everything that you held dear
Slipped away with aching fear.
Nothing in this place makes sense,
Nothing holds up your defense.
And your only hope is fear
That she wouldn't hold you dear.
Fumbling with the iron locks.
Everything that you held dear
Slipped away with aching fear.
Nothing in this place makes sense,
Nothing holds up your defense.
And your only hope is fear
That she wouldn't hold you dear.
P.S. Oh. My. God. What the hell is wrong with me?! I don't even read poetry. Why the hell do I write it?..
2 comments:
There's nothing wrong with you - sheesh! Embrace your inner poet!
Lol. I can't! Poet gene is killing me.
Post a Comment