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Broken Hearts are like the tainted waters;
They do not clear up by themselves,
But instead the poison manifests on our life-source,
Staining what was once a portal to a different feeling.
I put Pen to paper and write down what i'm seeing,
But it all flows as an uncommon language;
Everyone will give up at after a short glance,
They can't understand it.
I just aswell should burn the book i've wrote,
Full of the things I Think,
delete it in a death of fire -
Because I don't want to look at the past anymore.
I'd reach out to touch and heal your heart,
Erase all the evidence of the things I had done,
But I stop and remember - Everything I touch turns to dust.
I made the dry deserts with my own hands, and many innocent hearts.
They do not clear up by themselves,
But instead the poison manifests on our life-source,
Staining what was once a portal to a different feeling.
I put Pen to paper and write down what i'm seeing,
But it all flows as an uncommon language;
Everyone will give up at after a short glance,
They can't understand it.
I just aswell should burn the book i've wrote,
Full of the things I Think,
delete it in a death of fire -
Because I don't want to look at the past anymore.
I'd reach out to touch and heal your heart,
Erase all the evidence of the things I had done,
But I stop and remember - Everything I touch turns to dust.
I made the dry deserts with my own hands, and many innocent hearts.
mmk, yeah.
bit weak.
bit weak.
Azul wrote:
> Err...
>
> I didn't enjoy that at all. Sorry.
Wasn't meant to make you super-happy.
> Err...
>
> I didn't enjoy that at all. Sorry.
Wasn't meant to make you super-happy.
nor did i i must say one of your most rubbish poems ever like the rest
Err...
I didn't enjoy that at all. Sorry.
I didn't enjoy that at all. Sorry.
Broken Hearts are like the tainted waters;
They do not clear up by themselves,
But instead the poison manifests on our life-source,
Staining what was once a portal to a different feeling.
I put Pen to paper and write down what i'm seeing,
But it all flows as an uncommon language;
Everyone will give up at after a short glance,
They can't understand it.
I just aswell should burn the book i've wrote,
Full of the things I Think,
delete it in a death of fire -
Because I don't want to look at the past anymore.
I'd reach out to touch and heal your heart,
Erase all the evidence of the things I had done,
But I stop and remember - Everything I touch turns to dust.
I made the dry deserts with my own hands, and many innocent hearts.
They do not clear up by themselves,
But instead the poison manifests on our life-source,
Staining what was once a portal to a different feeling.
I put Pen to paper and write down what i'm seeing,
But it all flows as an uncommon language;
Everyone will give up at after a short glance,
They can't understand it.
I just aswell should burn the book i've wrote,
Full of the things I Think,
delete it in a death of fire -
Because I don't want to look at the past anymore.
I'd reach out to touch and heal your heart,
Erase all the evidence of the things I had done,
But I stop and remember - Everything I touch turns to dust.
I made the dry deserts with my own hands, and many innocent hearts.