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The Death of it all
September 16, 2010
The things you try to hold together;
The pieces have already fallen.
It’s too late for you to pick them up.
Pain it comes and goes;
A never ending process.
Like the wind passing by;
I can no longer believe the lie.
Our relationship;
Of love and hate.
I bury the memories in the ground;
For all is pain that can be found.
It’s too late;
I’ve already moved on.
So keep trying to pick up the shards;
The glass will prick and cut;
Let the wounds bleed.
It is the death of it all.
© Cindy C., Saratoga, CA
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