I miss the summer heat, and the love I once received,
Before I turned
Seventeen.
Sometimes I wish I could forget about last week, last month, last year, my past,
They were my other half, standing tall as I crumbled to the lowest I could.
Now I sit, watching her sing lullabies to her newborn baby,
I can’t relate.
She looks out the open window, glaring like she’s just another neighbor down the street.
In which I do not live.
Others manage with this pain, that’s not subsiding.
I’m waiting for love,
Which dares not to come.
Knowing it would be found, found out.
The loose threads of my jacket weave their way into the fist i’m making,
There’s no point,
Believe me, if anyone should know, It’s me.
Before I turned
Seventeen.
Sometimes I wish I could forget about last week, last month, last year, my past,
They were my other half, standing tall as I crumbled to the lowest I could.
Now I sit, watching her sing lullabies to her newborn baby,
I can’t relate.
She looks out the open window, glaring like she’s just another neighbor down the street.
In which I do not live.
Others manage with this pain, that’s not subsiding.
I’m waiting for love,
Which dares not to come.
Knowing it would be found, found out.
The loose threads of my jacket weave their way into the fist i’m making,
There’s no point,
Believe me, if anyone should know, It’s me.
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