Small fingers bruise this monster, your pain, the hands of hers are dry. You can always do something with words, letting you down is seeing you cry.

Its not the truth that hurts just the way, you always go turn around and say, like things are still the same as on that day.

When flowers turned ugly sweeter than honey rings, shifting memories brought free anything from the trenches of your slavery.

I can turn into you

You cannot even begin to understand this pain

Letting one drop in the open wound to take away the rain

The scars that wont heal are like the memories so real, of your faintest draw in hope tying off the rope.

You clearly changed your mind but you still press me after your gone like I have done something wrong, your spirit is strong but be reassured your voice doesnt not just turn on like it could like it used too. One day ever wonder if just one day is too long for us to surrender.
Last edited by ry-animal at Mar 5, 2007,