But the smell of a ex,
stagment on your walls,
on your doors,
on your mind makes me feel sick, sick like a squashed rat on the underground,
like the smell of blood at the dentist as you wash out your mouth and spit.
I feel her eyes in my head and a hole she left as a scar, people tell you to be nice, to let go of your past.
Easy if your left with a clockwork orange smile and sparkley eyes
not so easy if your burnt out and your feeling rage for unanswered questions
that your never get
to know
ever
Who takes the friends
what friends take you in their arms
which ones stay laughing alongside her
who stays a friend
which ones talk
I know who stayed in my gang
Guess that's it then
Time to walk away
I'm warming to a hug to a honest next step
I'm too tired to open my mouth any longer or take the blame for things I have not done
Two sides to every story right?
Wrong this time..
