Sunday, October 28, 2012

I Stick Around

Between two different crowds
In the same house,
I stick around like a curse
Or a zombie who won't hail a hearse.

My life's a suspicion that I'm doing it wrong.
My life's secretly knowing I do not belong.
I fall out of the picture or get out of hand.
I'm not misunderstood. I just misunderstand.

No comments:

Post a Comment