I gave you chances,
I dropped you hints.
You looked through me,
from pink glass tints.
You ran me over,
and killed my thirst.
I was radiant and jolly,
like an atom bomb burst.
I feigned happiness,
which is hardest to feign.
You were the nursing bottle,
and I had to wean.
I cried, got over you,
moved on, bought a life.
Tired, spent my soul,
through this endless strife.
No comments:
Post a Comment