Questions

The sun dies slowly over a copse of withering trees The fetid air wafts around in pockets of poison The clouds above mingle into words of hate The birds fly south to greener lands I wish i took the left path, not the right one I made the wrong choice, noth the right one I guess i'll always feel stupid and useless Because i've always been told i am worthless I mean how many times can you be knocked down? Before you don't want to get up How many knifed shaped tears can be shed? Before you want to give up The sun explodes over a copse of charcoal stumps The fetid mist creates a pall of poison The clouds above throb with poisonous hate The birds die south in similar lands