The Unspoken Game of Push and Pull
i like when you speak, so i listen to you
but, when you iterate the story
of the boy that wanted to pick up broken glass,
of the girl that did not hold the right age or class
i don’t enjoy it
so, i throw a fit
i freeze and force to stay behind the door
but, i still hear you dance on the wooden floors
the game of push and pull is keeping up the queue
so, in all glory
let’s hop on first class
to forget the matter and the mass
of the words i never admit
that combine with actions we never commit
and i know you keep wanting more
but, there’s nothing left to adore
to mourn over what fell through
between me and you
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