Someone who told me that,
Someone who lost his soul.
Someone I do believe
Will kill me, kill me..
I feed the wind with tears,
While he prepares the mold.
He rubs it in my knees
I feel the pain,
but I'm silent.
Sticking with hair into clay
Try to get him off my way,
Burning my mind in the flame
of his cruel game.
You caught my desperate sigh
I see it in your hand.
This time I'm gonna fight
Until we reach the end.
I put the lifeless dirt
On my collapsing face.
It causes so much hurt,
but still, it hides the cracks.
to stick
© Copyright: Диана Мак, 2012
Свидетельство о публикации №112120710927
Свидетельство о публикации №112120710927
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