Inspired by "Open Hands" sung by Ingrid Michealson.
In a room full of people, we all sit,
Nobody understood the way we tick.
In a room of just us, I took a hit,
The way things happen, we don't get to pick.
Now you're drifting away, so safe, so sound,
In a tide that's not close to any bay.
My hands are open, but you're not around,
There's nothing to hold onto anyway.
I felt immortal when I was with you,
But I don't think I could say the same now.
Then I think of everything you do,
And how you're leaving, it hits me like pow.
My hands are open, there's no way to call,
Fore you are drifting away, while I fall.
YOU ARE READING
Metanoia
Random(n) the journey of changing one's mind, heart, self, or way of life A collection of thoughts I've had, Stories I've written, Questions I've asked, And realizations I've made. Watch as I grow up and my thoughts change and my writing develops from 8th...
