Pages

08 April, 2011

I welcome this pain



I buried this hurt,
concealed in this heart
Go lock all your doors,
these cold steps will warm

This is what I can give
What else do you need from me?
I might be sick, broken, torn to pieces
So, whatever this is, this thing that now I've become,
You hate it so much, you keep on running from it
No matter the distance, no matter how,
no matter how far.

No comments: