there's a picture in my drawer
of me from a year or four
I remember the girl in that was a roar
as she laughed at me lying on the floor
there were flowers which I dried
which were sitting on the side
while I hid my tears and all that pride
I questioned who was I ever hiding from while I cried?
the picture reminded me of the grit that I carried
the one that my heart has now buried
I pushed myself to tear that part as I hurried
I kept the image I like, that I was unworried
that summer of august while I pretended to be "my mine"
I painted myself with the bliss and all the shine
I didn't know how to absorb, so I lost my spine
while the calendar didn't stop, and here i am finding "my mine", in another august's line