Scattered through these pages are my thoughts throughout the ages.
Running through my head are all the many words you said.
This pen writes on the paper, expressing my thoughts like a translator.
My pillow holds my tears, and seems to takes away my fears.
I think of you at night, you're like my window for the light.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
Scattered through these pages are my thoughts throughout the ages.
Running through my head are all the many words you said.
This pen writes on the paper, expressing my thoughts like a translator.
My pillow holds my tears, and seems to takes away my fears.
I think of you at night, you're like my window for the light.
