At times i tend to think how it would've turned out
I tend to think of the good, maybe the bad we could've brought out
I confess I prefer the thought of things being alright
I was robbed of a one last glance a slow dance a final chance
I tend to think how we'd have full control of our mission
I mean our vision was filled with passion
Imagine
Imagine that combination that was surrounded by motivation
Thing is we had no communication
I was robbed of one last glance, a slow dance a final chance
I take the blame
I take the blame for too much confrontation and negative delegation
to a point where we we had no conflict resolution
I was robbed of a last glance, a slow dance a final chance
But now I have to reach a point of acceptance;
I accept that I was a liability and I took no responsibility
I won't mention the lies I fed you and all the disloyalty
All I can say is I'm sorry
I realised all we had was Storming, never did we end up Norming
I know I should've done an analysis and evaluation or come up with a strategy of some
sort... something
Sweetness, I'm sorry
YOU ARE READING
Untied
Poetry... most precious things are unforseen... Voted: #3 calmness #3 refreshing #4 boundless
