Speed
It was like driving a Maserati down a dead end
street; a path with one speed.
I thought you wanted a friend,
That friend was me.
Too quick to call it love or a fight.
We jumped in that car,
And forgot to hold on tight.
Now in the wreckage I stand.
When I’m gone and not missed
You never wanted to hold my hand
Or feel my kiss.
Just like a layer of hell,
To say it’s a truth or a lie
He’d never tell.
