where were you the first time you saw the clock strike midnight
on a drive to god knows where running from god knows what
or in a lovers bed full of everything except; love
or alone in your room with your thoughts dancing among the shadows along your bare bedroom walls
the yelling that echoes in your memories wont last forever, they’ll bounce between the naked walls in your room until you pound hard enough that even the shadows stop shaking for just a moment
and life seems so still until you focus on it seeming
so ask yourself what brings you back to the moments worth remembering?
is it the cold edge of a steel blade pressed against your skin on a warm summer night?
or the burn of the cigarette as pops presses it against your arm on christmas morning?
“daddys little girl,” he croaks, “she can handle anything right?”
sit on your roof and cry with your half empty bottle in your hand all you want, the clock will still strike midnight.. dont be there to miss it