Travellers, and check-ins, all moving past. Men dressed for business, Families for weather, And the odd hit-and-miss with bright green shorts. Planes flying, or waiting, with impatient eyes.
My head is excruicating, Its killing me, From the inside out, The mistake was mine, But the apology doesn't work, Nothing ever does, And it makes me go beserk. The tears keep falling,
I sat down on the back table. Keeping my bag close and pretending to be doing something on my phone so that I wouldn’t be noticed. ‘Hey Alex.’ Oh great.