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A paper in black Filled with a pen, pouring out the pain. The cry of a thousand years The warmth of this life No more stretched into the spine. Dried leaves on the ground with no life to give, The desperate cry leaves you with a deaf ear. You search and cry But you won't see through the other side The lies of this life will fade you away When emotions torn out this life Tried to run but ain't that easy Only to loose yourself and crumble down on your knees again. I couldn't face it just I know that I can't take it  anymore Free like the water; but life is like a water at the palm of your hand They say that everything have a reason Will it be worth living waiting for the reason But what if I rest my soul and never know the reason I'm a prisoner of myself
0
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 11:18 AM UTC
Prisoner of Myself
A paper in black Filled with a pen, pouring out the pain. The cry of a thousand years The warmth of this life No more stretched into the spine. Dried leaves on the ground with no life to give, The desperate cry leaves you with a deaf ear. You search and cry But you won't see through the other side The lies of this life will fade you away When emotions torn out this life Tried to run but ain't that easy Only to loose yourself and crumble down on your knees again. I couldn't face it just I know that I can't take it  anymore Free like the water; but life is like a water at the palm of your hand They say that everything have a reason Will it be worth living waiting for the reason But what if I rest my soul and never know the reason I'm a prisoner of myself
joe-allay
Written by
Indian
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 11:18 AM UTC
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