Every story has a beginning, a part that's hard to tell. Withholding chapters to ourselves, some hide within a shell.
Beside the tree of Contempt, and the valley of Tomorrow. I cried a lake that is so deep, just from tears of sorrow.
Poisoned from secrets left on lips, doomed to never part. Men place a hand upon my chest, and think that I've no heart.
What I hide within is heavy, yet I pray on bended knee. Underneath a sky so vast, it robbed so much of me.
Of nails and gravel I was made, a result of pain and fear. Stuck within this armor, always unable to let them near.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
Every story has a beginning, a part that's hard to tell. Withholding chapters to ourselves, some hide within a shell.
Beside the tree of Contempt, and the valley of Tomorrow. I cried a lake that is so deep, just from tears of sorrow.
Poisoned from secrets left on lips, doomed to never part. Men place a hand upon my chest, and think that I've no heart.
What I hide within is heavy, yet I pray on bended knee. Underneath a sky so vast, it robbed so much of me.
Of nails and gravel I was made, a result of pain and fear. Stuck within this armor, always unable to let them near.
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