Okay so this is crappy, yeah I know, another poem coming out my butt. I don't really like this one so much. I don't think it's worth a title, but if you can think of one well let me know. This is really more of a vent since lately I haven't been able to write anything good. (Hope it's decent enough for you Moonbeam, I tried teaching my butt grammar and syntax, but I'm sure you know how butts can be sometimes, lazy and ignorant.)
So plans donít go the way we like them to,
'Cause now Iím sick of all the things you do.
While every word you say now leaves a bruise,
We break apart as you now light the fuse
I want to say itís all your fault again,
To lay my weight on you and watch you bend,
But blaming you will only leave me tears,
And plus I need you now to ride these years,
So weíre walking now with arms apart,
About to drift away with puzzled hearts.
Iím losing you, and soon youíll disappear.
I see it all unwinding now, right here.
Donít make me cry, if you decide to leave,
To realize we werenít meant to be.
Donít make me wish I had still stayed behind,
To gain a friend but to then lose my mind.
With God I am happy; sadness has no say in my life.