In the forest of our hearts,
the paths are overgrown,
tangled with thorns
and the whispers of storms
...
I am a candle
burning,
but too thin to last,
too soft to withstand the storm.
...
I buried myself a thousand times more
each grave unmarked, each death just another closed door.
I died in the lies you breathed to my face,
in every twisted truth, every fall from grace.
...
The memories gone, the rooms left bare,
the echoes of love still linger there.
When you took all I had, left me stripped and lost,
it never crossed your mind who'd pay the cost.
...