Feeling the burning desire of anger and discomfort. No matter how hard I try to step away I somehow always somehow see you Weasel your way back in to destroy me inside. Years gone to waist,tears staining my pillows and sheets. Somehow it just never fails to always get into my head and drain out the very best of me. Somehow, but one day. Yes one day.
Somehow, One Day
03
Mar
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Posted by J. Palmer on March 3, 2012 in kids, Love, Poetry, Short Stories, Uncategorized