When I look back on what I used to be,
how I used to see,
and when you were with me.
I get a confused nostalgic feeling,
of when we were together,
and I realize why I am still healing,
after the stormy weather.
I recall how I saw you in such bright light,
how I thought of you as downright stunning,
despite every word turning to a fight,
which put me on the road to running.
The mind is a fickle thing,
how it conceives pain to be love,
it overlooks every sting,
as a good sign from above.
As always, after the initial shot,
the shot which fills your head with life,
wears off as things get hot,
as I was stabbed with that searing knife.
For I was not expecting a shank,
right in your gut, or heart, or wherever,
but as you realize, your heart sank,
as you watch the ties sever.
Luckily, the mind is strong,
and with the help of love,
I will go on.