A slip of a tongue, a slip up mistake.
These are the things, that make my grave.
I carry a baggage, upon my shoulders.
My tongue slipped, and a friendship I smoldered.
A slip of the foot, and I fell to the ground.
My baggage is hard to pick up, no one around.
I hid my tears, I built my walls.
Now it is me, who takes the fall.
I slipped into despair, choking on air.
A relief is what I crave, but I pushed you away.
Please, before I go, stay.