Nobody wants to know who we truly are,
We’d commit suicide
Nobody likes to look at the ugly faces
No one can wipe a window inside
When he's dieing in the yard
No one can clearly erase painful scar
Somebody held your hand, the memory
is a purple bruise of pain
Somebody spilled blood on white paper
Someone didn't care about the end.
Now he cannot start from the beginning
Someone is just dead.
We d commit suicide
© Copyright: Девочка-Одуванчик, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104042900091
Свидетельство о публикации №104042900091
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