I used to write her poems,
When she still loved me.
I used to tell her she was perfect,
But I guess that's boring now.

"Are you okay with me",
She'd ask me over and over.
"Of course baby I love you",
Guess it was HER not okay with ME.

"I don't think I love you anymore I need time to think",
"That's okay, I'll give you time"
Why can't I breath?
"I'll see you when I'm back"
Why can't I speak, or even whisper.

Don't lead me along.
Past the trees,
Through the field,
Up the tree we kissed under,
Off the branch,
Choked by your twisted words,
Cause you know I'll hang around.