It’s been three years
I actually fit in here
And yet you want to leave?
Why are my decisions
Never left up to me?
It dosnt matter anyway
No one will ever stay
It’s gotten to now
Where I’m accustomed
To you as you walk away
I guess that now
I know how you look
More from behind
Than in the front
I wish I could rewind
I don’t know what would be different
Or how it would end
But maybe I would be firm
And not bend
When I was made to leave
And told to walk away
Or maybe even you might stay.
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 4:45 PM UTC
It’s been three years
I actually fit in here
And yet you want to leave?
Why are my decisions
Never left up to me?
It dosnt matter anyway
No one will ever stay
It’s gotten to now
Where I’m accustomed
To you as you walk away
I guess that now
I know how you look
More from behind
Than in the front
I wish I could rewind
I don’t know what would be different
Or how it would end
But maybe I would be firm
And not bend
When I was made to leave
And told to walk away
Or maybe even you might stay.
Request permission to use this poem