It's not the things that you do,
It's the things that you don't
That hurt a little further,
That kill my precious soul.
Its not the quarrels we have,
But the talks we dont
That sting my heart
That take us further apart.
It's this wall we've put up
The barrier of our pride
That doesn't let me speak
That takes this hatred to its peak
This stupid pride
It's your prized possession
You've destroyed everything with it
You've killed me, hit by hit.
I try to understand
But it's not remotely possible
For you to kill all your happiness
And burn our house down to ashes.
YOU ARE READING
My Escapade..
PoesíaJust a random Indian girl penning down her thoughts. Do leave a comment with your reviews.
