A war has started between my heart
And your undecided mind
Why do you do the things to me
then you cry and beg for me to forgive you
and give you another try!
I can’t stand it!
You make me feel so unwanted
and when some one finally comes along
That treats me right
you go and start a fight
just to keep me locked inside
and cry myself to sleep every night!
I forgive you for what you’ve done
But now it’s time for me to go even if that
means I have to run!
Goodbye my love it was nice while it lasted
but the good times do not out way the bad
Not this time, goodbye my sacred love
from the one who cared the most
Good luck I hope you have a great life.
About the Creator
Maria D
Just someone who enjoys to write, and explore her mind. I love to read, especially when they turn into movies in my head.
My Tolerated Self
I'd like to think I'd escape for better days. Even though the needles pricking into my skin may urge me to stay put, we are not meant for boxes and contraptions that will keep us inside. The needles aren't real, they are like bugs crawling on my skin—those feelings will fade with clarity, but some days I am unwilling to step outside of my tolerated self; my bones crumble at the idea of a future uncertain. I'm used to the boxes that keep me in place even though I know I can walk right through them and I'd be fine.
By Andi Leigha day ago in Poets
The Voyeur's Incandescent Reasoning
The woman sat nonplussed, in the Waiting Room. In a sort of daze, looking straight ahead patiently. She had already had three small breakfast's that morning and a nip of sherry, this was not unusual she would typically wait until an hour after she took her anti-depressant and was her morning routine. She was merely following instructions she assured herself, shifted slightly in her seat and feeling a little heart burn thought, maybe she should skip lunch. Dom had said to have the task done this week. She was well used to his methods and desired to get this over and done with soon. She glanced at her watch, smiled weakly at the Receptionist who was there for a moment and then gone.
By Canuck Scriber L.Lachapelle Author6 days ago in Fiction
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