It's okay, you can be free.
It has to be better than suffering with me.
I gave you my love,
I wasn't enough.
I held out my hand,
I begged for your touch.
It's okay, you can leave.
It has to be better than bothering with me.
I gave you my heart,
I wasn't tough.
I let you in,
I called your bluff.
It's okay, you can go.
It has to be better than love no more.
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Comments about this poem (Better by Leigh Ladd )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Percy Bysshe Shelley
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Alfred Lord Tennyson
(6 August 1809 – 6 October 1892)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
(1923 - 1998)
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