This wasn't planned. I haven't editted or even thought of what I'm about to write. It's all going from my head to my keyboard to you. Don't laugh.
As the shirt hang in my closet
They always grow older
Fashions fade away
But all the shirts still hang there
Some haven't been worn for years and years
Holding some dear and will not be thrown into a pile of give aways
It makes me think of the memories I have
Most hold pain and ditress
My brain won't let them go
They help form the path I walk each day
The pain of before helps keep the smile there
I won't repeat the same lesson more than 100 times
Eventually the point will be taken
And the shirt will be hung up
It won't be thrown
It will be remembered
Look past the mistakes here. I will not fix them, but hopefully you get a meaning from this.
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