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Literature Text
This is the tree
Where we used to flee,
From our lives;
All we wanted was to be free.
We found love here.
Now you're buried here,
Within the ground,
Where my cries make no sound.
My blood still pumps for you,
But my soul says it's through.
So I had to cut out my heart,
Because we're so far apart . . .
Where we used to flee,
From our lives;
All we wanted was to be free.
We found love here.
Now you're buried here,
Within the ground,
Where my cries make no sound.
My blood still pumps for you,
But my soul says it's through.
So I had to cut out my heart,
Because we're so far apart . . .
It was a boring day when I wrote this.
Fiction
Fiction
© 2010 - 2024 AngeloftheNnight
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