Of Mice and Men

I took a shovel once again,
Splinters of sadness piercing through my hand,
And with heavy sigh escape my head,
I began to bury my best laid plans.

I hated being by your damned charm,
That I dulled senses with every available tool,
But desires pierced through smoke filled mind,
And I went and made myself a fool.

But plans themselves are not foolish work,
The idiocy was in believing in you,
For I’ve filled a graveyard with hopes and plans,
Every headstone marked with your name and rue.

And I can’t help but think you’re a bit cruel,
For dragging me along on this ride,
Every plan that I have to bury,
Makes me die a little on the inside.

I took a shovel once again,
Splinters of sadness piercing through my hand,
This work won’t end until I’m dead,
Buried in the corpses of best laid plans.