untitled#2
By VagrantGypsy
'What are those scars on your arm?',he asked Why must you always ask questions you already have the answer to? As my mind searches for an answer besides the one I see in your eyes I try to keep my lips from screaming 'you'! The search ends when I see those same wrinkles grow across your face So I simply say,'The past' You nod,that silent all too familiar nod I loathe, I hate, I spite and walk away Why do you always turn away? Written September 19th, 2001 © on Sep 28 2001 03:01 AM PST 18 • 0 • 10
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"'What are those scars on your arm?',he asked..."