Sunday, February 2, 2014


You can gaze out the window - get mad, get madder

Throw your hands in the air, say, 'What does it matter?'
But it don't do no good to get angry
So help me, I know

For a heart stained in anger grows weak and grows bitter
You become your own prisoner as you watch yourself sit there
Wrapped up in a trap of your very own chain of sorrow.


Post a Comment