it dawned on me that you are not able
|
to get up off the floor
|
if up to me i would have brought this up before
|
but only after can i see clearly
|
that things have gone amiss
|
if i had returned it would not have ended up like this
|
up in the air, falling down empty handed
|
while unaware of the ground where you landed
|
"don't follow me and you'll be doing fine,"
|
just donyt give me that line.
|
in this broken mirror you're sullen
|
and i you would deject,
|
but thoughts turn to glass,
|
and on these things i reflect.
|
vivid, bright-the colors that follow,
|
and fill this empty room
|
your pekid skin,
|
just a sign of your impending doom.
|
saw you running after,
|
what better way to tell you than this?
|
|
-----------------
|
Swingset
|
Yellow Second |