Time Is A Fleeting Bitch

Was it my fault that you didn't tell me I was spending too much time away?

Was it my fault I couldn't read your mind?

Maybe I'm the fool.

I could have asked,                                                                                                                                                                                                                  Could have listened.

But we drifted apart!                                                                                                                                                                                                              How was I to know how little time you had left?

It wasn't my fault, it wasn't,                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Oh, God!

It wasn't,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  It was not.

And now you're not.

I know it was.

This poem is about: 
Our world


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