My heart, swollen with dreams, desires to be burst.Poked by a needle, stabbed with a knife, or torn in spite of two people at the worst. Lacking love, lacking empathy, the hole in my heart needs nursed. Fake smiles, following others orders, this is my life in-complete and rehearsed. But when I rely on other people’s love, my mind leaves my heart cursed. To have trust and to have faith, for this I thirst.If my life continues on this way, may I have permission to lay myself down in a hearse.
If You Really Knew Me.
October 30, 2010