Monday, 27 February 2017

Lost It

She went away, to vent her frustration another way,
She cried and lied to protect herself with cautious stealth,
But deep within, she knew she'd committed sin,
And she was to blame for playing the game of insane.

And what warrants scrupulous attention, is the mention
Of being apart from your faculties, as to tease my temper into life
With strife abound for the rebound of your sound,
But  listen to me, and accept where I want to be, full of glee.

I'm quite happy on my own, but I like your company in my home,
But look at things with a perspective, and not to be neglective,
Of my feelings, as I care, I stare in disbelief at times, with the crimes
Of injustice against myself, concerning your health, is it me, you don't see.

Love is a feeling to keep at all times, and reminding with the texting lines
Of caring without being overbearing, and to speak on the phone about being alone,
But you're with your friends, make amends and think, and don't sink
Into despair about your hair, because I might not care.

Andrew Stevenson 27/02/2017

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