It's the middle of summer,
Yet it's so cold.
As the sun rises,
My vision blures to blackness.
As She carves the heart out my chest.
It feels as if I was like the rest.
So heavy and dark,
Its as She holds a beating piece of obsidian.
Now shrivel and weak
And how it looks so bleak.
So my heart grew cold
And I gave Her what's left
Because I loved with all I had
But it wasn't enough.
Sep 1, 2017
Sep 1, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC
It's the middle of summer,
Yet it's so cold.
As the sun rises,
My vision blures to blackness.
As She carves the heart out my chest.
It feels as if I was like the rest.
So heavy and dark,
Its as She holds a beating piece of obsidian.
Now shrivel and weak
And how it looks so bleak.
So my heart grew cold
And I gave Her what's left
Because I loved with all I had
But it wasn't enough.
