Breaking Down
It was the innocence she could recognise,
It was in that instance I could not disguise,
My hands are clenched my arms are bent,
I’m giving my all hoping this was an accident,
Do they have a phone line for hapless gents?
Why is she spitting out every plead I’ve sent?
Put yourself in my position under submission,
She doesn’t listen she thinks I’ve gone stale,
I’m pale and fail at reeling her in with compliments,
My innocence has gone at this instance,
I break and punch my white knuckles on the wall,
I stall for a moment, I’ve blown it,
She’s crying and putting on her coat.
poem by Gaz illionaire
Added by Poetry Lover
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