Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns all.
The Wrong Sense
I wait in the night,
For you to return,
A bird on the edge,
Only for you I yearn.
My eyes are damp,
My throat oh so sore,
I've wasted away,
I can't do this anymore.
Tragedy is at hand,
I try to go on,
But failure is for sure,
It seems you have won.
My face is dark,
My hair cut short,
These rusty scissors,
I hold onto for support.
Searching for you,
I'm so afraid,
To wither away,
I've been betrayed.
A promise not kept,
You say for the best,
I now know better,
In a state of depressed.
Do I look okay?
My eyes dark and red,
I've grown so thin,
I'm sure I look dead.
Is this what you want?
Me shriveled and scared?
I was so confused,
I almost swore you cared.
I look just like you now,
My inhuman air,
Only in the wrong sense,
It's too late for repair.
Hit or miss? Let me know in the form of review. -Dal
p.s. i know she didn't really cut her hair.
