A twist of words,wasted words, misdirected anger
Excuses are made to retaliate, wait, excuses never made
I am the reason, the reason why
The house is cold at night
She thought I was Mr. Right
Cars break down, she sleeps with a frown, and I live in this little town
Where is the happiness? Where is the Joy?
Perspective is the key; do, don’t
Maybe I won’t ask, Sex at your command
Lights out, cats out
Quiet while I study in our house!
I give you the remote, just look at me
I definitely will survive
She has to power to rearrange particles in my brain
It’s time to go to bed, WHAT?
I made it up
Made it up in my mind
That’s what I do best
I’m getting tired
Stop making sense
I don’t know what to say
As sure as the sun will shine
I might be programmed by time I’m 39.
Filed under: Dedication, Must Read | Tagged: Love, Poetry, Programmed, Writing
