What was I suppose to say when the look on your face didn’t say the same thing.

Chasing pots of gold to only find there is nothing there at the end of the rainbow.

It’s a drive with no destination and if I have no destination where will I end up?

I hear crickets when I ask you things like that.

Like the truth is a foreign language for you.

You’re not foreign and this isn’t a peculiar language.

This has got to be the strangest addiction of them all.

You’re my high and my lowest of them all.-HonestlyFrank


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