I once knew a story of a sad sorry selfish little girl,
who was everything but aboriginal.
She was your average girl,
but she could not combine 2 hearts together.
Her heart is 3 times to small,
as black as night,
and as cold as ice.
Every kiss she surrenders,
every heart she indulges,
makes her feel less worthy of an attempt.
Happiness is so far gone,
that she knows not what it is.
There are times a sunset is still as beautiful in her eyes,
but most beauty is gone forever.
All colors are less vivid,
all tastes are so bitter.
She's tried so hard to begin all over again and again...
but how could she love someone if she cannot even love herself?
Still to this day her heart is an open wound.
Only years of loneliness and anonymity can possibly repair..
