I beg you dear
Whom i adore
Quit pulling poems from my heart
I beg you dear
Whom i adore
Please dont appear then depart
Im so sick of sad art
When does the redemption start?
Why is happiness so hard?
Our pens only scratch at our scars.
blood
My love
Belongs to us
But it wont be long till we ‘re dust
We grow so forlorn
with no warning
That we’re growing worn
by the warring
The sun falls down every night
Then rises up every mourning
The dark marching against light
Writing a hell of a story
At least it never gets boring.
But i’d rather
it were
a bit more boring
So boring we ensure snoring
Please can you do that for me?
I beg you dear
Whom i adore
Quit pulling poems from my heart