Run your hands through my hair,
feel my soul barely there.
Hold my pieces frail like glass,
look through them into my past.
It was like sand smooth but course,
then lightning struck with such a force.
It turned that sand into glass,
and now you see my fragile past.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC
Run your hands through my hair,
feel my soul barely there.
Hold my pieces frail like glass,
look through them into my past.
It was like sand smooth but course,
then lightning struck with such a force.
It turned that sand into glass,
and now you see my fragile past.
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