Could it be the way you laugh
that made me want to rip everything apart
Could it be the way you talk
that makes nails on boards leave a mark
Or is it the way you walk
that make sticks and stones a potential weapon
to destroy my soul; you make me sick
Who are you to pull me down? You were never there, I reckon
At my weakest, you look down at me
unmoving and ignorant of what could be
I needed you at my worst
But you decided leaving me is what should be
I'm tired of bending to your will
I'm disgusted by the way this feels
After all those years of being away
Your pathetic voice still gives me chills
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
