Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
It's gospel isn't it? Your quiet complacency Out sick in the bathroom but still you seem to laugh at me Your imperial intent and millennial mind Only seem to distance you from being anywhere close to 'fine' You sold out your soul to a bipolar lover you Swore off your friends and told yourself you'd never need another You broke my heart there in your damp summer clothes You said it wasn't personal but i know that I know that I know that I'm not supposed to suppose anymore That you might feel better if you just shut that door You can give him your world but you can't keep me in yours So I won't come around if you knock on my door anymore The summer you met were the coldest months I've known Ice in your eyes winters breath filled your home The mess that we made still hangs round my head Thorny black crown of the words I never said But now here we sit in a 4x4 bathroom stall Tell me it's fine that morning will fix it all Tears in your eyes your hands in your lap But it won't get better if you keep running back But I'm not supposed to suppose anymore So you'll keep on going back to his door You can give him your world but you can't keep me in yours So I won't answer when you come to my door
0
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC
Gospel
It's gospel isn't it? Your quiet complacency Out sick in the bathroom but still you seem to laugh at me Your imperial intent and millennial mind Only seem to distance you from being anywhere close to 'fine' You sold out your soul to a bipolar lover you Swore off your friends and told yourself you'd never need another You broke my heart there in your damp summer clothes You said it wasn't personal but i know that I know that I know that I'm not supposed to suppose anymore That you might feel better if you just shut that door You can give him your world but you can't keep me in yours So I won't come around if you knock on my door anymore The summer you met were the coldest months I've known Ice in your eyes winters breath filled your home The mess that we made still hangs round my head Thorny black crown of the words I never said But now here we sit in a 4x4 bathroom stall Tell me it's fine that morning will fix it all Tears in your eyes your hands in your lap But it won't get better if you keep running back But I'm not supposed to suppose anymore So you'll keep on going back to his door You can give him your world but you can't keep me in yours So I won't answer when you come to my door
Another rough song I'm working on.
caroline-williams
Written by
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 1:06 PM UTC
Request permission to use this poem