Why Do I

Why do I write these songs for you?

They don’t impress you anyway.

I mean so little to you now,

You could forget me anyday.

And though the words come easy.

The feelings hit so hard.

And for me to cry while writing them.

Is not so very odd.

You’re the only woman who can cut me this deeply.

And this often.

But stab wounds are dangerous, they make people cautious.

And not want to walk done certain streets.

They make people scared.

And they kill.

Yes if too much blood gets spilt,

They kill.

Why do I write these songs for you?

They don’t impress you anyway.

I mean so little to you now,

You could forget me anyday.

And though the words come easy.

The feelings hit so hard.

And for me to cry while writing them.

Is not so very odd.