On the Brink
Sometimes I'm left to just sit, just write
Just think out of spite, with or without the delight
Of the look on their face showing nothin' but fright
Sometimes I sit in the dark to just drink, just think
Just waste away, teetering on the brink, don't blink
You know there's a purpose when I'm using this ink
Sometimes I just lay in the smoke, no choke
Theres nothing left to provoke, just my heart is broke
From those words you spoke, too cruel for a joke
Copyright © Macy Southern | Year Posted 2011
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