Sometimes I say that love’s a curse.
Sometimes it makes things worse.
It breaks your heart into pieces,
Suddenly, your life ceases.
It cuts your heart with frozen blades,
Then, nothing’s left for you, just shades.
There’s nothing you can do to stop the pain,
To others you look entirely insane.
You see no Sun, no light, you’re lost,
On an endless pass, you will exhaust.
From coldness of the darkness,
About your death you’re doubtless…
Is love really a curse that kills?
That’s how it is, to me it seems…
You run away, but it has you in its grip,
It even comes to you in sleep.
Your dreams are broken, so’ is your heart.
You die, you’re done, you’ve played your part.
Love Is A Curse That Kills
© Copyright: Шуба Настя, 2006
Свидетельство о публикации №106111200688
Свидетельство о публикации №106111200688
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