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What You have Done
December 7, 2007
Sweat drips on the punctured being
the brake cracks through the wind.
Love was yours but all you’re seeing
is nothing accomplished in the end.
Blood spilled out of the open wound
it spilled upon the blacktop red.
My mangled heart was torn too bad
I wished and felt like I was dead.
As the sun is hot above the clouds
and it beamed down upon the stain.
The cold rain did soak up my blood
and my blood soaked up the pain.
My heart was in a cast of gray
I thought you were something else
when I leaned on you; you ran away
and left me by myself.
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