why do tears leave all the stains
and smudge the ink i used?
why must you always rearrange
the tattered and abused?
yes, some things are too torn to fix,
but here i pray and wish and wish—
oh, these everlasting blues
i broke three promises made to you:
one, to always feel with heart,
two, to yearn when we're apart,
three, never admit wrong from the start—
my mind the stars and world the chart
oh, it's torture, everlasting blues,
why do i do what i do?
said i wasnt going to write about sadness again, im not sad, it's just i have a whole pile of poems left from when i was