The promises I make


who believes in promises? aren’t they meant to be broken?

If they are meant to be broken, why make them?

I don’t make mine, it escapes through my weak and feeble lips

Any  time it leaves my glottis, My heart skips and beeps

Like a time bomb that doesn’t know what kind of damage it will cause

But pause. I only feel a greater remorse when someone is hurt

“A greater” i say, it begins every time my mouth opens.

That overwhelming sadness that burns my heart; ovens

It won’t go until I stop making them, it won’t go, it wont go

Ye mouth!! Open and say something you can do and do it so.

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