Wake up, gloom.
Sit and stare in my room.
Burnt little scar,
Oh' how wonderfull you are.
cream? cover!?! morale???
Empty shell.
Pride comes with a sting.
Hopefully, see my Baby. Sing.
Up, upon the computer screen.
My Queen.
Oh' how you can see how truly deep I really am bleeding.
Well? Well! If I am stuck in this shell.
And there, I shall dwell.
We'll speak again, with light that is true.
Another day, when this boy is not so blue.
Love you,
Thursday, May 19, 2011
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