Sep 27
My head called for my pen.
To write of love’s sweet ache.
But my soul turned inward gray.
And found no flame to take.
A silent room, a wordless plea.
Poor me, poor me, poor me.
To write of love’s sweet ache.
But my soul turned inward gray.
And found no flame to take.
A silent room, a wordless plea.
Poor me, poor me, poor me.
