May 14, 2009
By Gena McMahon GOLD, Rochester, New York
Gena McMahon GOLD, Rochester, New York
19 articles 4 photos 6 comments

Mistaken, …look what you’re breaking. Why much forsaking? Why have you forsaken...what past was? What’s their to judge? Maybe twas me. Let me see. With you I must be. Come set me free.

Sexy…why did you hex me? Convex around my shoulders carried by boulders...around my heart.

And when this day, carried away, laughs at my face, I’ll think of you, who left me cold and dead. And when the sun, wrapped up in paper, burning away….. Fading away to the other side of what’s supposedly, what’s supposed to be.

F*** it that’s me. I was you friend, I’d kill for you and I’d die in the end. So seriously, but not literally. But as you can see, that’s how it’s supposed to be. Me. Now I’m not free. How thoughtless are ye? How careless just can you be?

I’d fight for the end, a sunrise, a tourniquet. And nothing can see, …the moon rises with me.

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