growing hurt
day by day
weak by week
I am going places
none of them looks like home
nowhere to return
trapped among 8 swords
noise and voice
my screams begging silence
music of despair
peace is off
pain of certainty
retreating to land of no homes
i dont need you
or cant have you
cant know what came first
mutual route
straight lines
no room for a bend
too young to say goodbye
too old to regret
please accept not to lose
and I will stay
clean and unused
Δεν υπάρχουν σχόλια:
Δημοσίευση σχολίου