A smile, a laugh, but thin are they;
you glare at me in a haze.
When, at night, you finally say
I need to change my ways.
But who are you to give me grief
when you gave up the right?
I can't keep going on like this;
I hate it when we fight.
You wake up with a pain in mind;
you don't remember why.
You don't remember how I bruised,
or how you made me cry.
So next time there won't be a tear;
I will not stand my ground.
There'll be no other fights, because
I will not be around . . .
I will not be around.
By Pepper
