Stay with me through the holidays,
When I can't find the right ways.
Through the days I'm not my own,
Tell me can you see it going down?
Hoping I'm keeping you for secret
Trying to make you keep it.
Pressure is pushing me deeper,
Knowing I can't remain being the reader.
I need you to know I'm sorry,
For using you as my glory.
Never meant what I said under my breath.
You will focus on it 'till your death.
Opening doors that much better should have been locked,
Sunday morning I walked to you and knocked.
You opened the door and the flowers bloomed again
After an eternity of sleeping with pain,
My mind understood it wasn't on the right lane.
YOU ARE READING
Drunk under a Streetlight | poetry
Poetrypoetry /ˈpəʊɪtri/ noun literary work in which the expression of feelings and ideas is given intensity by the use of distinctive style and rhythm; poems collectively or as a genre of literature.
