• Memories

    I was only honest,
    What do I get in return?
    A hate-filled glory chorus;
    And an ash filled urn.

    If I said 'I'm sorry',
    Would it change a thing?
    The night will still worry;
    And the girl inside still stings.

    So I will leave this place;
    In which I did cry and groan,
    Crying to that familiar face;
    Not made of life, only stone.

    I once walked this path,
    A mere twenty years before,
    Suffering a painful wrath;
    And never feeling too sure.

    Swinging the gate open,
    With a near - deafening squeak,
    I passed the stone falcon;
    To whom I used to speak.

    If I said 'I'm sorry',
    Would it mean a thing?
    The night will still worry;
    And the girl inside still stings.