My eyes, wet.
My lips, dried.
The fantasies, they're all about a new sunrise.
And I wonder why
you play with my mind.
Your screams echoing at night.
And, again, I cry.
The pain is only mine.
I hate this confessional poetry style,
but it lets me fly
as I was high.
And once again I stop the time;
you're warm for me to remind.
I find the light
within my sight;
On a sunny day
I pass you by,
and I reach the sky.
Me and I,
we unify.
My only thought
I should retry.
Jun 7, 2021
Jun 7, 2021 at 11:24 AM UTC
My eyes, wet.
My lips, dried.
The fantasies, they're all about a new sunrise.
And I wonder why
you play with my mind.
Your screams echoing at night.
And, again, I cry.
The pain is only mine.
I hate this confessional poetry style,
but it lets me fly
as I was high.
And once again I stop the time;
you're warm for me to remind.
I find the light
within my sight;
On a sunny day
I pass you by,
and I reach the sky.
Me and I,
we unify.
My only thought
I should retry.
