Wasting time in the blinding, midday sun,

Searching for hidden meanings in the lines,

I only found your lack of true love fun;

Chagrin rusts my iron fist of dark signs

Do you dare to taunt good people in vain?

Your silence leaves me in utter distress.

I’m headed elsewhere on a southbound train,

For your lies were written on your silk dress.

The false oaths I swore on were deceiving,

And merely stood idly by as time passed;

I’m consumed by the pain I’m receiving,

Yet my lungs cannot function at long last

Since you’ve taken a piece of me with you.

I thought you were mine; You never came through.