I cant write, I cant even think..
Staring at my blank pages, forcing my eyes to...
Across the ice she slices gracefully,
Just like a ballerina on the stage...
For every teardrop I expose
is a memory I compose...
You do not have a name...
I don't think they could choose...
I am a lonely grain of sand,
stuck in two goblets of glass...
My, now tainted, soul,
Was formed from blow after blow...
I enclose no desire to write about the
country resting in South Asia...
You cut my paper thin heart,
With dual sharp-edged scissors...
As the sun will set, the moon will rise
A bipolar facade, a two-toned disguise...
Held down by invisible ropes,
The pain too much to bare...
All it took was the sound of footsteps.
It was enough for such a weary mind...
Some nights,
I kiss the nightlight sweet dreams...