“Save your sympathy,” she said.
Nice gesture, but it’s wasted on the cold.
Was that really me? A life we led as opposite, wandering souls.
Do you hear the things you say when you are no longer in control?
Missing memories of the future that never existed or could be foretold.
You are a string of broken promises.
Your actions scream your whispered best.
And I am the backer of this tragedy
While you hide the sins you can’t confess.
You’re a stranger once again as black ink bleeds on white pages.
The dam is failing because of this flood;
Small cracks have been patched in stages.
The coming fall signals the death of what looked to be greener pastures.
This was nothing more than a chapter displaying our painted disasters.
You are a string of broken promises.
Your actions scream your whispered best.
And I am the backer of this tragedy
While you hide the sins you can’t confess.
You made this town feel like a foreign land,
And I admit I am a broken man.
…a broken man.
When home becomes a foreign land,
I must admit: I am a broken man.
…a broken man.
You are a string of broken promises.
Your actions scream your whispered best.
And I am the backer of this tragedy
While you hide the sins you can’t confess.
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