all the memories i had,
all the memories we had,
in all the times we've been through,
why are we still sad?
the picture we took last summer,
now it seems too far
why do the feelings linger,
if all they leave are scars?
my feelings wound upon your finger,
my happiness seems drowned,
my self, oppressed,
and my confidence, diminished.
through my eye,
the stitcher's sword,
it halts to a finish,
the final battle cry,
pictureboard.