This story must not be written for me
No. No. not for me.
Not for me to tell
Not for me to decipher the twisted glances at the unseen truth
Not for me to hold the upstanding citizen
Quivering like a child at its first chance alone.
I Bury myself up
Tuck my chin beneath the sheets
Beneath the very sheets that touched our skin
Bury me beneath the tired old tree.
But do not leave me there
Bending there I pray before
Screaming “save me, save me”
But like a tree lonely in a forest
You forgot me.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 7:47 PM UTC
This story must not be written for me
No. No. not for me.
Not for me to tell
Not for me to decipher the twisted glances at the unseen truth
Not for me to hold the upstanding citizen
Quivering like a child at its first chance alone.
I Bury myself up
Tuck my chin beneath the sheets
Beneath the very sheets that touched our skin
Bury me beneath the tired old tree.
But do not leave me there
Bending there I pray before
Screaming “save me, save me”
But like a tree lonely in a forest
You forgot me.
