Stress quickens pace in my heart,
Slowed beating when heartbreak starts.
Beaten up, black and blue,
My little friend has nothing to do.
All I know is it's sick.
All I know is I'm sick of you.
The silence rises.
And as the lightning crashes,
A broken promise is spilled among our remains..
I'll be glad I left with you.
Because without you, I'd be insane.
It seems like murder-suicide I'm afraid.
- February 13, 2011
- Frostilina
- No Comments
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