Category: Writers Block
Your the favorite cut I like to pick till it bleeds tears.
I stand in the middle of the room with my hands over my eyes.
Hoping, praying it's a enough of a disguise.
But there you are, and you see me, and though you've disappeared behind my covered soul, I'm open to you.
There I stand picking you away,
dropping little pieces of you for the shadows to feed.
They run to share there rumors of us to the wind.
If you only listen you can hear the wind whisper our names.
The wind only tells me that in time I shall heal. But it doesn't know you're the favorite cut I like to pick till it bleeds tears.
Ooops that should be favorite Cut. Sorry