Tuesday, September 3, 2013

A Sore Loser

There's skeletons up your closet
and empty fills my pockets
You're fighting woes with bare hands
and I am steady shifting stands.
I am trying to find
our closure
and maybe you are too.
And I'm throwing away 
your memoria
but its just so hard to do.
I'm throwing the withered flower
and many an unsent letter
and I hope this serves me good
and I hope it serves you better

No comments:

Post a Comment