sunday, sunday, sunday.
all is moving, heart is beating.
a question and an answer
never thought i'd hear you say.
i dont remember dying
but the paper knows the pain.
sunday, sunday, sunday.
it beats beneath my chest.
holding on, all but destroyed.
i hold only memories in my eyes.
and those promises. break them?
i can't, i can't, i can't.
Shelby Burnside
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sunday-sunday-sunday/