Friends

The drawer squeaks as I open it up

covered in cob webs and dust

as I peer inside to see what it holds

Pens and pencils, barely used too

yet seem worn, so they're tossed

the action seemed long overdue

As they started to feel awkward in my hand

Not fitting, not natural, could it just be

the brand?

Or was it they were brand new

it just wasn't the same

they've accepted it, I've accepted it

There's no reason to blame 

So I let them go, there's no reason for me 

to hold on to what they used to be

They went with someone else

And I went another way

knowing everything was going to be okay