Questions
I hate being forgotten
And I hate the feeling of forgetting
Tendrils of numbing fingers
Pulling me to the edge
And now I have to decide
Should I fall?
Or should I jump?
Or should I run home first,
And sit in silence with
A drink tipping out of my hand
And wait for it to hit the floor?
Or should I let others decide for me?
Let them take the indecisive decisions
That pour on my shoulders like acid rain
Maze of white scars I’ve gotten lost in.
And twist them into a perfect line i'll never see.
Because I'm always running
Always chasing the birds that can fly
Over this edge I'm stuck on.
If teardrops gave me feathers I’d have
Wings.
I’d fly
Never to come back down.
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