Waves of panic and guilt
wash over me, ever
growing like the tide.
The storm that we
created i surely can not
hide.
We dance the dance of
chaos hoping it will
subside.
But in the end we both
know that one of us has
died.
To be the breaker , it is
only but a dream.
To the one that's broken,
it's a never ending
stream.
The pieces you left for
me to pick up, were strewn and scattered all about with a gust.
Wind and a breeze stings at your skin The wind you blew so...