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Stitches
October 7, 2008
Every love I know,
another stitch I sew.
The pain a knife to the heart,
my insides being torn apart.
Red to black, loved to cold,
once again, I have been sold.
This aching feeling which once was rare,
has become something I must often bare.
Time to time, a light may vivaciously shine,
but it hastily flickers dim
in this corrupt world of sin.
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This article has 1 comment.
F said...
on Oct. 22 2008 at 12:22 am
i like it, i know i couldnt write it so its tight
