What i once held as something more,
Has now been consumed by bitter remorse,
The pedals we used to pick,
Are now but sharp point pricks,
Leaving holes in my heady hand,
It's clear you'll never really understand,
This isn't something i had planned,
It's an act of no demands,
The mere growth from the seeds,
Of a child's sympathetic needs,
The unmasking of your sweetened tea,
Is all that should have ever been,
But before i leave this presence to thee,
I ask you to take for me,
A sip of this fountain of glee,
And consume it before it's ever to be seen,
By the vultures loaning in the sky,
Reigning down to do or die,
Turn around and bite your tongue,
For i assure you they're not as young
