Writing is a dance where the words are the music and the pen is the instrument.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Look
If you loved me, you
would look into my
eyes and realize you
are killing me inside.
Love kills the soul
and then destroys
the mind. It shatters
the world and leaves
it thirsty and blind.
When will it finally
be my turn to be
happy?
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