Your words,
They sting.
So sharp,
But not sharp enough to pierce through,
Only to stay lodged beneath my skin.
So that every time someone brushes by,
I hurt.
Funny thing,
You care,
Like a mother should.
And yet still,
I can see you,
When you're old,
Regretting,
You're alone.
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
Your words,
They sting.
So sharp,
But not sharp enough to pierce through,
Only to stay lodged beneath my skin.
So that every time someone brushes by,
I hurt.
Funny thing,
You care,
Like a mother should.
And yet still,
I can see you,
When you're old,
Regretting,
You're alone.
