Aug 2014
Coiled around the core
of my heart
Is a sigh for the *****
who sold my art.
I was that fiend, lusting for care,
not long ago,
I wrote the shame on the page I tear,
I am my foe.
But dead now, is that ***** *****,
Buried deep within;
I write for me forevermore,
Yet carry still that sin.
of my heart
Is a sigh for the *****
who sold my art.
I was that fiend, lusting for care,
not long ago,
I wrote the shame on the page I tear,
I am my foe.
But dead now, is that ***** *****,
Buried deep within;
I write for me forevermore,
Yet carry still that sin.
I used to write for the wrong reasons, but not anymore. I'll never let that ***** in me sell me out again.
