I'm fourteen and I write to escape to my imagination which is rather dark |
Her eyes burned with the words left unspoken
A promise never met...
The pieces sprawled audaciously before her
On a board carved by the angels themselves...
You take my hand and we watch the storm.
The blinding lightning, the screams of thunder...
It was a summer to set the silver screen ablaze.
For the fated lovers would forever be recast...
My music waters my breaking heart with ppison laced nectar as I smile through the crimson tears. |
If a single tear can betray pain left unspoken, |