Self-inflicted Suffering.

Maybe I deserve this,
or maybe not.
I have no idea what to feel,
or how to deal.
You were the greatest.
No, I never forgot,
so stop assuming so.

I won't move on,
as much as you think I have.
You may think I'm gone,
but I'm still here.
Regret may stream through your veins,
your heart may be pumping pain,
and you're screaming,
but that will never make me run.

But you are.

It's never hurt so bad to see you,
when you walk around all dead,
with your head down
and no words to be said.
I wish I could hug you.
But I can't even say a word,
as much as I want to.

I brought this on myself,
and you brought this on yourself.
Why do you cry?
Why do you make me cry?
Stop with the damn tragedies.
You're an over-dramatic mess,
and I'm getting sick of it.

You say you can't be my friend anymore,
well that'd be fine if it were true,
but I can tell; I can see right through,
you're lying to me; you're lying to you.
Fine, run, and I won't chase,
let us both sit in corners with tears down our faces.

We brought this on,
so let's suffer to ourselves.
Goodbye. So long.
[I miss you.]

Sarah Gammon ©
07/03/07

I'm sorry.
Thanks for reading -xxx-.