- Sep 20, 2019
- 1 min read
I lay at night writing poems of the words I left unused,
picking them up and glue them together,
I hope this will turn out just how I want it,
otherwise they’ll end up in the trash
just like the chords that didn’t do.
I was was getting tired of losing my thoughts,
thinking you took them when you left,
but all you did was throw them in the trash,
not knowing that I’ll pick them up and polish them,
jokes on you, they might’ve been just words to you,
but to me they were more.