I seem to make better poems when I'm upset. |
She's trapped.
The girl, she's trapped...
The issue is my selfish ways and I
I'm so tired of this blackish life...
I can't take seeing her like this
Please dismiss her from here own prison...
Your pleasures turned into my pain
My body turned into your gain...
Dreadfully cold
Filthy as mold...
Et's go back to the days when we loved so much
the days where we'd give up forever to just touch...
Love can't be sang or even said
True love will never end up dead...
Fear in my own childhood
No one was near...
Come here
No one will care...
I call her up
None other than crying...
I can't say how I feel when I can't feel. |