When I tell my story now
It's like I'm telling something
Others have told to me
It doesn't hurt any more, but how?
Did I really move on and forget?
Did I grow past it?
Did it really matter, then?
I no longer regret....
What was done to me was cold
And what it turned me into was worse
I was a kid, I was drowning
But now I can escape their hold
I can cling to the hope I bear inside
The hope I've always had
I'll move on, I've moved on
I'll never need to hide
Maybe it's right if I let it pass me by
Maybe it's good if I let it go
But, maybe it's not good
If I didn't have so much reason to cry
I wouldn't have been me without it
Wouldn't have been who I am now
And it's best that I live on
As long as I don't regret it....
I'm alright now, I suppose
I made a lot of good choices
And in truth I'm glad
That it was Ian I chose.
No comments:
Post a Comment
I love you, random stranger. Thanks for dropping by, and for dropping a line. --Half Mad Writer