Her lungs were made of glass,
And she spoke as softly as a dying wind
If I had known,
Known that I was at fault,
I would never have opened up
But the evidence has disappeared faster than I can keep up
And I'm simply no match
She broke into pieces
And exploded like confetti
Yet, I knew I was at no party
When my final words to her
Were uttered into attentive ears
"Goodbye"
YOU ARE READING
What's Wrong
Poetrysome of these might not make sense but trust me neither does my mind
