Writing a poem is like writing about my life.. |
I look up at the window..
Still...
We fight over silly things,
You hurt me...
Saying you're sorry,
never enough...
I looked at you,
with a sighed...
I was expecting something high,
when the reality is just very low...
It won’t stop cry,
That’s what they say...
Am I so stupid to wait for you, |
I was expecting something high, |
People always told us |