Ironic isn't it
The eyes looking back today
We're the same eyes I hate to look at
Ones filled with anger
With a hatred for those living
Harsh eyes
The smooth lines sharpening
The bags growing just a bit darker
More pronounced
The scowl slowly becoming permanent
I can't even say I wish this would stop
Because I didn't see it until the gallows
We're upon me
The noose drawn around my neck
You never notice the things you wish you never did
Until it's far to late
To even wish to change them
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 8:57 PM UTC
Ironic isn't it
The eyes looking back today
We're the same eyes I hate to look at
Ones filled with anger
With a hatred for those living
Harsh eyes
The smooth lines sharpening
The bags growing just a bit darker
More pronounced
The scowl slowly becoming permanent
I can't even say I wish this would stop
Because I didn't see it until the gallows
We're upon me
The noose drawn around my neck
You never notice the things you wish you never did
Until it's far to late
To even wish to change them
