No, I don’t.
Don't know what to feel.
Don't have the medicine to heal.
Don't have the time to deal.
I am ready.
To start over.
To move on.
To write a new song.
Begin a new chapter.
To get back in touch with laughter.
To start writing again.
To remember when you were my friend.
So which one do I make?
Do I stay here and fake
Do I go there and replace
Will it be different?
Will I be different?
Will this flower finally bloom?
Will the hour finally reach its doom?
I receive no responses.
Left to make decisions on my own.
Eager to make myself a new home.
Am I doomed to walk these streets alone?
Just me and the man on my shoulder.
But now as the weather turns colder,
I wonder when it is I'll get over