Monday, October 15, 2018

Insensitive


The decay crept in
Like a cancer, eating from toe
To the heart
Until blood lost its colour

Was it guilt 
Was it love  
Was it fear
Was it me

Music did not entice
Stories left travel
Sugar turned sand
Hands grasped at neck so hard, sorrow could not be swallowed 

It must have been love
It must have been me

Laughters were short
Smiles were forgotten
Dance lost its grace 
Guilt stopped hurting 

It must have been me




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