Standing like a shadow, held in terror on the wall. Thought the past has been and gone it holds her heart. It is her fall.
Her beauty told of lies And told of truth in mouths of liars Though her lips would swear she’d have them dieing Burning on the fires Of a world where social savages Had left her virgin grace Where the girl could see reflection Of no snide, beguiling face.
But this pedant’s illusion is too few and far between, For her destruction is too tempting to be beaten down by me.
Little Aile · Fri Aug 20, 2010 @ 02:06pm · 0 Comments |