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Hey , the shirts aren’t always bright. A little faded and off white . Is it the best that He can? A simple question , hard to understand.
Pain is love to her As love is pain. She rather die of pain Then to die of love. Pain is happiness to her As love is sorrow. The blade brings a smile to her face As love brings sorrow.
The meaning of love, Often visualized as doves, Flying through the skies, Going above doubt and lies. But we each have our own definition, Whether we're tied into submission,
Does it hurt ? Can you feel it? can you prove?
He soaked up every inch of her happiness. Vanished her sweet loving smile. Wet her eyelids with tears streaming down her face. Redden her face, ached her head, and above all ached her heart. Nothing seems right anymore. How can it all go back?
I was blinded by what I thought was love But now I see as clear as the deep blue sea
Im hurt & i'm in pain,You still act the same,
#YOWO, right? I guess I'd better make this count. "Love is a many-splendored thing..." Right? Not quite. Love is a very confusing thing. Sometimes I love to be in love.
I am taking off my diamonds, The emerald mask you gave me to wear To hide the hurt you left behind, The hole you left behind. I am letting all my old scars show.
I always thought You were my diamond In a pile of coals. But just a wolf hiding in sheep skin; you devoured my heart there it sits - Pulsing red and bleeding out your lies.
He left me half dead you know? He left me a drained girl who had drank from his love for well over a year. He left me hungry for love and affection for comfort and heat.
Not a sane thought in my head Just the way you'd run the bed Keep me in your control Like a weak pawn Now you've lost it, Your control gone I have these bruises on my arms
The end of school is soon, But yet I don't want to say goodbye. When the clock strikes noon, I feel as if a part of me will die.
Think back…. Can you remember houses made of cardboard boxes Out of which came your parents’ new furniture from ikea Do you remember changing your names
i told myself i’d fix him show him that killing isn’t his path but he’s psychotic and poetic i guess i didn’t do the math.
Driving’ in his car, its amazing how the wind flows through the room. I couldn’t stop getting butterflies touching him. Why couldn’t it last for so long? I couldn’t help but to say goodbye.