It shouldn't be a problem and it is.
I should be happy, but I'm not.
If I were a seaside, I'd be one time forgot.
Swings rusted still, and women of an age.
Same season all year, like dried ink on a page.
Getting overtaken, doesn't mean you lose.
It only meant you shone so more when came the time to choose.
Wind can be so vicious as it stings across your face.
A gentle stabbed reminder to always know your place.
Eventually what you will find is your heart does turn to stone.
Or constantly you feel the pain has seeped right to the bone.
Now at this point it really is so much easier to say.
Just leave me here and I'll wait in peace until you've had your day.
