I’m sick of the madness.
The hoping for more than you’ll ever have.
The antique hearts rusting away
like a carousel that’s never be ridden.
So as I am sitting here screaming out in pain.
Walking on egg shells.
Walking on broken glass
wondering how to tell you
Why I sit here in the dark.
Why I do the things I do.
Why is a question that keeps running through my head.
The tears flowing free like a stream of welled up thoughts of us.
This sweet sorrow
this meaning of tragedy.
Again I question.
Another night alone dear
as I wait for the sound of a ring through the silent air.
Sitting, waiting, watching it just there.
You’ll call one day and then I won’t be ready