I’m quite aware of my bitter condition.
I mask it with a smile as sweet as your heart,
I feed the world with it, and then I stop
Afraid they’ll come too close, so close that they could feel it;
The smell of a self begging for closeness
Beneath the yellow picture of a broken stone.
The secret is that, under that rock,
For you, lonesome, there is a home.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.08 seconds at 7:20pm on Nov 27, 2024 via server WEBX2.