The Black rose
Once upon a finest hour
I picked the darndest lovely flower
His pretty petals were silky black
Utmost perfection; not a crack
The sharpest of thorns you'll ever see
I wonder if this was meant to be
His thorns would prick me when he played
It hurt me and I'd cry but yet I stayed
His stem was taller than the rest
I think he knew he was the best
I never knew of his black magic
and that's how this story turned so tragic
How was I suppose to know?
He reeled me in then let me go...
- yours truly
Thursday, February 28, 2013
Wednesday, February 27, 2013
Nature is the darnedest thing...
Dreams only last for the night.
Monday, February 4, 2013
No crying over spilt milk.
Not really sure how to feel about it; there's something in the way you move.
He said 'If you dare come a little closer.'
The reason I hold on.... Is I need this hole gone.
I want you to stay.
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