Sour Grapes

Random thoughts. Comment.

Sometimes in the middle of the night,

I wake up crying over you,

The nightmares haunt me,

Break down my psychic walls.

 

You are almost dead and gone,

There shouldn't be any trace of you left,

I want you forgotten,

Without the influence of sour grapes.

 

Especially your grapes,

The same ones that almost killed you.

The same ones that clogged your arteries,

You almost lost your leg Grandpa.

 

Now you sit in that home,

Slowly wasting away,

Pale and as ghostly as you are,

You still can say, "f**k you."