My mother told me
I should move out
She laughed as she said it
But I felt the firmness of her mouth
Now call me growing up
I call it obsoletion
Reality of the start
Of the end set in concretion
I only went on holiday
Fifty miles up west
I stayed at my boyfriend's place
I didn't sign the lease yet
I only went on holiday
Someplace in my thoughts
Where cognition is overwhelmed
It's never lonely and I'm all I got
My mother told me
I should move out
She laughed as she said it
But I felt the firmness of her throughout
Now call me juvenile
I call it wistful sorrow
Reality of the start
Which feels like ever-ending tomorrow
I only went on holiday
Fifty miles up west
I stayed at my boyfriend's place
I didn't sign the lease yet
I only went on holiday
Someplace in my thoughts
Where cognition is overwhelmed
It's never lonely and I'm all I got
YOU ARE READING
Songs I Write | VIII
PoetryHello! - Please don't steal. - If you do use any or anything, just give credit, thanks. - 20 years old, England.
