Listening to the same old song
and before long,
I'll be back here listening to that voice.
What choice?
Choice is something I used to believe.
Now that I grieve
making my path astray and lonesome.
Nothing wholesome.
This was the same yesterday, all the time
committing a crime
of killing my precious sense of mind.
I'll fall behind.
Rewind,
listening to the same old song.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.06 seconds at 11:42am on Nov 22, 2024 via server WEBX1.