In what beauty does such wonder break. Each line concieved in the darkness. Without thought. Without true desire to create. Now with far less. So who put you in this state?
Are you so afraid of your own words? That you would hide them?Afraid of a comment that you would use a gift given. To hide from the truth. May as well stop living. Or in the silence of the moment take the time to think. Did you think? Do you think? Or are you as the Rose without thought. Who's beauty fades with time. Left with only peddles fallen.. Without the power of rhyme. Lost, alone, always crying.
Originally Posted On Site: 2008-11-20 00:14:32
Last Login: 02.09.12
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