She is not a creator, a follower not a master.
Does it look like the painful wound, but she is the old scar.
Let her see through the Crystal glass,
the radiating lights, the cheerful smiles,
She is a faker love, she knows the vines.
Take her hand and walk through your dark swoon ,
recite your poem and the story of the lonely moon,
And once, let the broken pieces scatter before her............
show your wounded wings, let her be the healer.
Jun 20, 2017
Jun 20, 2017 at 11:25 AM UTC
She is not a creator, a follower not a master.
Does it look like the painful wound, but she is the old scar.
Let her see through the Crystal glass,
the radiating lights, the cheerful smiles,
She is a faker love, she knows the vines.
Take her hand and walk through your dark swoon ,
recite your poem and the story of the lonely moon,
And once, let the broken pieces scatter before her............
show your wounded wings, let her be the healer.
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