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Whats Wrong With Me?
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December 2011 Maybe you were pulling my string sending me messages,
apparently it's evident not only snitches get stitches,
sew up the holes in my heart let the string soon absorb,
with time will my wounds heal and the old me be restored,
maybe i am writing cause it has an effect on my future,
i'd be her million dollar outfit if only i could suit her,
i barely knew her yet something said you were a liar,
now i'm freelancing again looking for a heart to hire,
i miss the skyping and all the late night phone calls,
conversating about if only now i'm going over the falls,
when one goes up they must soon zoom down,
and i barely get the satisfaction of seeing her around,
maybe i'm too much for everyone, no longer take this pain,
so i'll shut off all emotions and rewrite my brain,
refrain from the train and combust on the bus,
whats wrong with me? not trying to fuss.
