Grief giver, soul killer.
I could ruin lives
This isn't self flattery,
It's my possessive pride.
Yet, still I mumble apologies,
it seems they're never old.
But, the freshness of our purity
has since been turned to mold.
How many times can I say I'm sorry,
before you'll even know?
I hope that one day you can trust in me
and realize I have grown.
Well, now you're in a rut,
but you should know this.
I know you'll tough it out
and you know I'll notice,
because I can always tell you at your fullest.
I know a smile can keep you afloat.
It makes the pressure lessen around your throat.
Breathe in that air, here comes the sun.
Good days are coming, your course has not run.