Not for what it meant or what I changed it to
It reminded my soul of its degradation as each passing day drifts
And time has only been an unkind lady luck that loves holding my hand
Between the words of what should have spoken of utter love
Were utterings that transformed to an endless lamenting barrage
The blurring of my vision mid writing can be a very tangible excuse to state
Yet those tears bear no responsibility for my heart should have seen better
In verses that are marred by such inaccuracies how can I voice
And the fact you never read them is only an insult to injury yet
You didn't call for these, so, why, would you? need? to read! either, or
My shortcomings are far worse than the verses I spew forth
Should you ever read these, know I at best can only bow down in apology
Hold me by my earlobe and drag me back to sanity if you could my love
Before this ends me, before I end me, maybe, tell me, you, will read!
Or at least will graze your gentle hands, gaze on the poems on the papers I leave
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