I don’t know what it is about Sundays
Im good all week or at least some days
But then comes Sunday, and that heartless fire
Got me calling you a liar
Got me taking deep breathes trying to focus
Unless I say a word you wouldn’t notice
My everything is a mess
Fighting demons – try not to digress
My lungs cant hold the air I need
Blood too thick wont let me bleed
Every attempt to drain myself, failed
Every Sunday like clockwork I’m jailed
As if my body is trying to tell me
Something I don’t know, I plea
For years I’ve nurtured you but please
Im getting older and I cant breathe
Leave a Reply