It doesn't bother me so much that you dont talk to me anymore
I prefer it to the screaming so a part of me let go
but your silence settled into my heart like a wishing well
deep in my soul
it sits and collects at the bottom
very alone.
its a dark place only you and I go.
the coins you tossed in there are tarnished and destroyed
they echo lost dreams
they are sunk in like your 1958 born cheeks
you look so weak
what happened

As a child,
You handed me a sparkler on the Fourth of July
you knew it burned me and I saw the guilt in your eyes
You'd swore you’d never hurt me again
But you’re burning me now

you were always afraid of money.
Youre a vagabond.  
You turned me into a gypsy since the day I was born without even asking
my permission.
I don't love you the way I used to.
you're not my hero.