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.