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by Mild insomnia Nov 20, 2004 category : Miscellaneous / Misc. poems
If I give up, is that murder? I cannot sleep, so I live my dreams, no I cannot breathe, though I waste my time, to I give up my life, to I constantly try, for you In fields made of ice, Here I lie, This is where I’ll die. I will not try to run, Until I stop what you have begun, I cannot leave this place, Before, I am sure, To see your smiling face. You push and pull, when You want some fun, then You leave me undone, again. You pack and leave, me You won’t believe, see You constantly deceive, me I will not try to run, Until I stop what you have begun, I cannot leave this place, Before, I am sure, To see your smiling face. It could take a year to sort this mess, And you offer no support, Maybe I should just leave and forget, This is my last resort, I can’t keep fading. I will not try to run, Until I stop what you have begun, I cannot leave this place, Before, I am sure, To see your smiling face.