Tuesday, December 16, 2008

Hell Is The Psychiatrist

Why do you keep poking at me?
It doesn't help your case.
Trying to block the images I see,
These memories won't erase.

I remember that day so well,
Strange people made us talk.
Then they took him away from us,
Not guilty, the door was locked.

That day was so many years ago,
But in my mind it stays.
What you did was wrong, you know.
You were wrong in so many ways.

You lied and said we had to go,
No one knowing I was there.
So I went, feeling so low,
And you without a care.

No comments:

Post a Comment