Siting in this cold gold-forsaken
place picking up a pen I write
tears dropping on the page.
What's been done over and over
again has finally come to an end
I no longer feel the need to sit alone
yet here I am and so afraid.
This wieght I bare lessens by each
passing day, so why am i still here
in this cold god-forsaken place, wirting
while tears run down my face.
I know why it's 'cause reality has hit
me hard in my face all that has
become of things is your need of
my messed up sweet embrace.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007