Do you think of me as a child?
Unable to comprehend your twisted words...
This poem is for my friend whose mother died...
The pain is finally setting in...
Do you think of me as a child?
Unable to comprehend your twisted words...
She sees her world through eyes of others,
Black and white; there are no colors...
The easiest thing is to forgive you for what you've done. The hardest thing is to forget what you did. |
&& he's my best friend..... and my best love |
Come on sweet catastrophe |