You see me, yet you don’t see me, you see.
A tear drop races down my face.
......this fear and emotional wound is still there, lurking and eating the hope for joy.
It used to be me and you, so good to the touch; sweet as candy. There you are on the other side of glass, with rage in your eyes and hurt written across your face. You asked for this. Not me because I don’t have you. She can though.
Is it always going to rain?
His mother passed away in the act of delivery.
atop a mountain they embrace
With all the lies and cheating
She said the dead did not stand up,