I hadn't been here in quite some time, where it had been so long I had forgotten what to say
I sat and listened to the skepticism of those foreign feelings
Questioning every ounce of my self worth
"Happiness is a warm gun" I heard again, and I finally realized the complexity of those words
Because I am always expecting it, which isn't how it should be
Putting pen to paper again feels too good, so a hurting chest shouldn't be the only reason I return to my writings
But I only remember the dazed look on everyone's faces as I explained the goodness of it
Almost as if they knew that tomorrow he'd be gone
"Happiness is a warm gun" holds every bit of a new meaning for me now
So I throw my hands up in defeat
I admire the beautiful ones
-bw
No comments:
Post a Comment