| NO MORE |
II write poems about how I feel That is the only way I know How to deal. I am only sixteen. I do not mean to be mean. I wish I could wipe the slate clean And start over again. That way I could put away this pen. So what happens next? Where do we go from here? Because now all I know is fear. I know that I love you, But what do you expect from me? I just want to be free. |