You told me to love,
But all I could remember was hate.
"Child," you said,
"What are you doing?
"Get out before it's too late."
But I'm afraid I've tread too far-
My feet are so accustomed to this terrain.
It's like second nature-
Almost like home.
You're calling me
Beckoning me to listen
But I've turned my head away once more.
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 2:08 AM UTC
You told me to love,
But all I could remember was hate.
"Child," you said,
"What are you doing?
"Get out before it's too late."
But I'm afraid I've tread too far-
My feet are so accustomed to this terrain.
It's like second nature-
Almost like home.
You're calling me
Beckoning me to listen
But I've turned my head away once more.
