There is nothing in this cold sadistic world to hold my ground.
Each whim of fate becomes as thin as thread,
as empty as hope.
What is hope anymore?
Every indentation of a lost cause.
What is there left to believe in,
When you are unsure of what you can achieve to believe?
As frail as a snowflake,
Our world slowly shall perish.
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 1:18 AM UTC
There is nothing in this cold sadistic world to hold my ground.
Each whim of fate becomes as thin as thread,
as empty as hope.
What is hope anymore?
Every indentation of a lost cause.
What is there left to believe in,
When you are unsure of what you can achieve to believe?
As frail as a snowflake,
Our world slowly shall perish.
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