clay

I walk along the street,
at midnight walking with my feet.
Pretending you were here,
holding my hand without fear.
Even though you are not here,
I still sense you dear.


I wanted you to go away from me,
and I will make sure my problem stay.
Stay away from me,
and all I want is a way;
but you are as stubborn as a clay,
trying to stick into my wall,
in any way.
Always.

Oh dear,
please go away,
very far away.
So that I can make my own clay,
with my own way.


19062012:1743