It's hard to look back,
To say, 'Yes it was me'.
It's hard to look back,
And deny what I've seen.
No one can know,
There is comfort in this
No one can know,
So why the distress.
Even with the passing of time,
The pain and suffering still all is inside.
Even with the passing of time,
I can't feel a thing, no matter how I try.
Is it love, or is it hate?
Yet they both dwell within my brest.
Is it love, or is it hate?
My question is, what's the difference.
.................................................................
By Louis Glen Gillette IV
© This page is copywrite by law under state ordanances ch13.361