I count seven. The number of times you've passed through my mind today. The number of times I've cried. The number of times I've wished you away. The number of times I've died.
It's not fair how you've healed so quickly while I'm left behind still bleeding. I hate myself for letting you so close now I can't get rid of this feeling.
You've torn me up from the inside and I'm slowly leaking out. My heart has never been so thirsty but you've left me in some kind of drought.
Why can't I just heel it's been at least seven months. I should've never ever talked to you not then not even once. I'm rhyming and I hate it because I don't like cheesy things.
Well is it still cheesy if I'm just hating on everything? You've crossed my mind seven times today along with memories we made. I've thrown them into hell and still they come back unafraid.
Well I wish they would stay there because seven doesn't even come close to the amount of times you should have said "sorry".