why is it so hard to trust
my cold black hearth covered in crust
if my life was a painting
it would be named rust
it would take months even years to remove all the dust
im a fixer upper im sad to say a broken toy no one wants to play my heart is gold but it can no longer be seen its tarnished and dull long lost its sheen
scar tissue and scars like weeds in the yard is all that can be seen dull and ugly and no longer green
who shall rebuild this fixer upper a little bit of work can be done by supper, a little tlc and a coat of paint will not be enough to stop the complaints hes an eyesore tare him down
abandoned vacant and empty covered in skulls curse words and graffiti tear him down
some day some one will see the potential and zone tbis property as residential providing all the necessary credentials.
feeling the love ex·is·ten·tial
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