Hundreds of paper sprawl on my floor
Red ink smeared 'cause of my teardrop
All the unsent words lay on the paper
Slowly losing their meaning and waiting to disappear
Hundreds of wafer-thin birds are hanging on my tiles
Silently singing for the anniversary of my demise
Begging for my soul to move on
But, no... i ahve no point in moving on
Lost in life unable to arise
Hanging on a line in an object called syringe
Slowly killing me from the inside along with him
The one that living inside a cluel…
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Posted on September 12, 2009 at 7:18am —
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Emo Graphics
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