Not You
The unsatisfying excuse of it’s not you, it’s me
Unleashed fears on a never-ending spree
Lies that did spring from nothing
Turned every little thing into something
And all those promises that were made
Are laid beneath regrets’ shade
Every night the poor little thing went to sleep
The only thing on her mind is not to weep
Thinking of all the things she could have said
Of all the possibilities and things she never had
With a heavy heart and an even heavier mind
She sleeps, praying for some peace for her to find.
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