TyLangford

As I stand there

Nothing to do

Exposed and bare

But stare

And think of you

 

Only feeling pain

Never to surrender

Growing less sane

Cutting off my mane

Leaving me tender

 

As I grow old

Lying in bed

With no one left to hold

Alone and cold

You running through my head

 

The less you care

The more I descend

The more you think it’s fair

There is no flare

This is my end