I still know it.
I live in the city center, 26th Ave...
I
am half-built...
A desolate pit; starved of empathy
where understandings are...
In my tears
Emotions, quietly reflect within...
The endless days that slowly pass
As the sun rises and sets...
Who am I?
Just a feather in the wind...
Look deep into her eyes
all the way down to her soul...
Turn the music up so no one can hear me scream
If they do they will try to comfort me...
There is no escape from pain.
It takes you over as it's domain...
She lives through all her cliche tragedies
With a smile burned onto her face...
What's one more time?
If it gives me sweet rapture...
I'm so tired of fighting.
of hoping for the best...