i keep screaming save me, save me. But all you keep hearing is hate me hate me. If my eyes burn as bright as the pain at night, would my image still flutter past your mind. Even now, the butterflies still fly. but little do they know there led to die. does my face bring regret, or is my happiness some game of russian roullete. playing with all blanks and one bullet, an eight shot pistol, your trigger, so pull it. in the end is this life or death. do we determine lives with our fading breathe. gather whats left of the happiness in dreams, because thanks to this world, its not as we believe Poem i wrote guys. let me know what you all think. might turn this into a song
Posted on: Wed, 21 Aug 2013 04:57:15 +0000
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