She writes like the grim reaper
About pain, loss and tortured souls
Yet she has the sweetest smile
That could make a broken man whole
She writes about the lonely girl
Who cries for her broken heart
She says she's never been in love
For her, lying seems like an art
She has a quirky sense of humour
Her laugh is a sweet melody
She write about being lost and alone
Shes always surrounded by family
She writes about the child that cries
While his parents fight downstairs
She's lives such a happy life
With no sign of pain and despair
Sometimes when she speaks to me,
She seems so young and naive
Her poems carry such soul and depth
That they came from her is hard to believe
How can she understand my darkness
If she's never felt pain or desolation?
Why do her words ring true to me
When I know it's just her imagination?
Her sad rhymes always make me cry
I just can't figure her out
Is there some sorrow that she hides deep?
Or does she just twist her words around?
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 2:36 AM UTC
She writes like the grim reaper
About pain, loss and tortured souls
Yet she has the sweetest smile
That could make a broken man whole
She writes about the lonely girl
Who cries for her broken heart
She says she's never been in love
For her, lying seems like an art
She has a quirky sense of humour
Her laugh is a sweet melody
She write about being lost and alone
Shes always surrounded by family
She writes about the child that cries
While his parents fight downstairs
She's lives such a happy life
With no sign of pain and despair
Sometimes when she speaks to me,
She seems so young and naive
Her poems carry such soul and depth
That they came from her is hard to believe
How can she understand my darkness
If she's never felt pain or desolation?
Why do her words ring true to me
When I know it's just her imagination?
Her sad rhymes always make me cry
I just can't figure her out
Is there some sorrow that she hides deep?
Or does she just twist her words around?