You think
we are still friends.
We are not.
You think you can still
make the rules.
You cannot.
You think you can still
take me back
any time you choose.
But the future
is for me to choose.
Blow. Away. Forever.
We both lose.
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem