HB (October 8,1987 / Canada)

Dying Slowly

Friends is what we used to be,
Until you mistreated me.
As I grow I become aware,
That it will never be you there.

I gave you many chances,
That you never once took,
And now you just leave me,
A torn discarded book.

Open to all eyes and dead on the floor.
I just don’t know how much I can endure.
On a good note, I’m not afraid,
Strength and toughness I would never trade.

I gave you many chances,
That you never once took,
And now you just leave me,
A torn discarded book.

I can’t take you, I want out,
But you’re my mom you will pout.
If a Mother presses too hard,
She will catch her children off guard.

I gave you many chances,
That left me oh so shook,
And now you just leave me,
A dull decrepit book.

With the information I do find,
Conclusions state a title is bind.
There is one thing though, you have a knack,
You are good with a stab in the back.

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