Torn.

November 4, 2011
Torn from the part I love
A piece that fit like a glove
Nevermore a part to be sang.
Ripped away and forced into the unknown,
Love is now hate.
Music is no longer innate.
The only things to be heard are words,
Words stripped of beauty.
Passion has escaped
And vowed never to return
Unless…
United with what was torn.





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