![]()
To love that in which is a lie,is a fools ideal choice.
Why?
Of one of dark,hated,and pain,
open up this soul,so I may feel again.
As I blled out,onto these sheets,I realize how damn filthy the word is,and we are the cause of it.
I cry and cry,and I sing my little tune,
on my birthday,at the end of june.The black rose,does it's dance,born with any thorns,it invokes romance.I lay on the ground,and look up at the sky,and I can't help but ponder why,Why Am I Alive?
Comments
View All Comments