Feb 12, 2013

SIXTEEN SUNDAY

Yesterday frustrates me,
For tomorrow hasn’t come yet,
Sure there was a dawn,
But the dusk is not alone yet;
Today is what I have,
I stare back and forth again,
Seldom have I surprised me,
Of how much am I born with?
This has been my life for quite a while as I recall,
The two choices I have are to either crash or to fall,
For me now I am alone,
I’m used to being on my own,
Friends I have had changed too much,
But I don’t really know I’m not in touch,
I wish there were no occasional calls,
No how you’re doin’, so wat’s up and all?
It fucks me up to breath each day,
I turn too much into me with every breath I take,
Given a chance, I’d let it all go,
Start over again and see how I do,
I would escape this if I could some way,
Too much for me, too much for today,
Irony escapes between the misery and sorrow,
This will still be me if u read it tomorrow,
And now I’m lost for words but then what’s the point,
Every matchstick was made for every cigarette destroyed,
I bow as I leave for now you can smile,
I don’t wish to die, just wish I was more alive.