Shut Your Eyes (February 2011 - August 2011)

I'm sitting in your lap,

but your arm is around her.

I lay my head back,

but your's is fit on her shoulder.

I confront you,

but you deny and back down.

Do you see this pattern?

We're repetition, in it's own definition,

and temporary is our only permanent.

Could you get over yourself,

open your eyes to see what's right in front of you?

Trust me when I leave,

you're going to wish you took a chance.

I don't even know why I'm wasting my words.

You don't seem to deserve them.