Saturday, October 9, 2010


All of the heartaches
Just cannot compare
To the agony felt
When your broken heart tares.

All of the arguments
Fade and subside
When the last shreds of hope
Wither and die.

All of the feelings
And hot tears run cold
When the passions cool off
And stale excuses grow old.

All of the drama
Must not be repeated.
But it will not stop
Until the supply is depleated.

I cannot help or control you.
And I am defeated.

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