History
History has a funny way
of always coming out to play
peeping through with fierce, red eyes
seeing through my well worn disguise
there's something there I can't explain
like an exception to deceipts sick game
I trust him with my deepest thoughts
he completes me, this is for what I have sought
all I can do is trust his word
trust is not that absurd
that's what makes this demon called past
merely a memory that will last
I can't complain to be fair
I look in the mirror see what's standing there
the wall is still here, it's yet to go
but in my eyes I see room to grow
I want him here that man I trust
the one that makes me want mto adjust
here by my side to hold my hand
and walk with me through complicated land
to know the real me, know everything
I think we both deserve this trusting thing
So history come out to play
just know I'm not going to run away.
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