loveothersasyourself
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What makes me tick?
That drumming of your fingers on the desk?
How about the way you stare,
With those fancy clothes you love to wear?
No.
I don't have all the money in the world.
I cannot sit here and unwrap this hatred,
Taste the blood and sweat of the innocent
Ignore the threads made of tears,
Smile, laugh and forget
I want to lay my life down
Such tears of pain,
of shame,
wiped from the page
smeared in ink stains.
If only she had known,
maybe these tears
would never have shown.
