I did it
(That's right, and maybe I prefer to go back in time)
...
Maybe it is me who is wrong
Whenever i try to write a song
A fickle minded nonsense
Untimely past tense
...
Maybe i should not have changed
Stayed in a shell named strange
I could not get past the barrier
Ignorance was never happier
...
Maybe i can do little
Just destroying brittle
My house is but a tree
Pale as gray can be
...
Maybe im such a nuisance
You wish me to stop this instant
Im calling the party off
But, sure, i wont be off
YOU ARE READING
The kid.
PoetryA series of quatrains about brokenness, poems about my dress, and words written for the wordless.
