Painting lies on the face of all or our pities
Drawing words to trace all of our feelings
But leaving out the most harsh and most insane
To break within this chain and becomes something strange
We've become the cancer that runs inside our veins
The treacherous sting that burns on top of our skin
But we will never stop to begin the end
Our regrets flutter like tiny butterflies in our memories
But we never bleed
Or plant a new, more wholesome seed
Or look at ourselves in the mirror
Glimpse past the distortions to something clearer
We only pretend to make it better
Because this stolen world is alot easier to live with
Written by: Niloo Farahzadeh
No comments:
Post a Comment