It's a crumpled piece of paper,
laid littered on the floor.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
that people chose to ignore.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
that showed she did once care.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
explaining she was broken beyond repair.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
laid littered on the floor.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
that people chose to ignore.
And it's my crumpled piece of paper,
that was lost and never found.
This crumpled piece of paper,
that's now six feet below the ground.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 5:01 AM UTC
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
laid littered on the floor.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
that people chose to ignore.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
that showed she did once care.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
explaining she was broken beyond repair.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
laid littered on the floor.
It's a crumpled piece of paper,
that people chose to ignore.
And it's my crumpled piece of paper,
that was lost and never found.
This crumpled piece of paper,
that's now six feet below the ground.
Reminiscing my dad's passing and reflecting pieces of my journal.
(c) Samantha Vaughn
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