When you already know,
The dirt we were planted in,
From which we would grow.
What good are words,
When it seems like a shame,
To see others go home,
And we can’t do the same.
What good are words,
When I see you in pain,
And I try to relate,
But only in vain.
What good are words,
After all that you’ve done,
To supply me with choices,
And leave yourself none.
What good are words,
When it doesn’t seem fair,
To hurt in this world,
And you can’t make it care.
What good are words,
When I hope that I’ve shown,
If it gets cold outside,
You won’t be alone.
Post has been edited 1 time(s), last time on Nov 7 2007, 11:54 am by Doodan.
None.
