Playing with fire, getting burned
Being a liar, being spurned
Now sings the choir all I've learned
And to the spire all have turned:
Love sent his son to break the chains of sadness
And yet to them I willingly hold
I cry to him when growing pains of madness
Around my heart turn a wand'ring soul cold
I take a blade and break the skin a few times
Holding it there till I become afraid
I fall on my knees
I hear a hopeless silence
O what have I
O what have I become...?
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this blog is my red-headed step-child.
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