More times we are the victum of some realtionship gone bad.
by Rachel Fogle
We the women of tommorrow trying to stand and raise our heads.
But heartache lingers like that a bad dream you once knew,
It carries with it feelings of dread, fear and doom.
Can we become more than what we have setteled for,
Can we rise and come back again?
Or do we forever stay in the abyss of the undead.
Bitter Sweet is the taste of bad love,
It's a void you cannot face.
It traps you in its grip no chance to escape.
I have come to the realiztion I may never love again,
But somehow I have to convence my heart,
Even though we lost some,
We gained something in the end.
We gained a stronger mind,
A stronger heart,
A life for ourselves that no other can share that part.
We have a chance to give to ones self and maybe someday,
The Bitter Sweet nothing will change and Red Wine will be served in the end.