Nothing changes
when you walk with her,
Yet nothing's the same
when you look back.
I should stop blaming the hand,
its not the clock,
It's you, you changed,
And the innocent hand,
It still moves.
YOU ARE READING
I Wrote It All For Me
PoetryPoems. For myself, of my moods, my life, just me and my feelings. Most of them are fictious (or are they?). I'll leave it to you readers, let your imagination wander.
