Saturday, June 3, 2017

The Haunting

Is there a saint for sorrow?
A saint for sadness?
A saint for death?
A saint for madness

Because lord knows I can't pray in a haunted house
This is where your spirit left me
Dead ass drunk
And dead ass empty

I pulled up the white, picket fences today
There’s no use for them now that your garden is gone
The neighbors don't talk to me anymore
If they do look at me, I only see a sideways frown
But it’s hard to even get that

I hate myself for the love
I could never give
And I’m a damn good catch in a white t-shirt

I wonder if she knew that
and she knew that
and her and her

Could they just tell?

Push to the left
Push to the right
All of them
But one I've never met

She knows more than I know and she is a ghost
And she is seriously
Haunting my soul

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