even broken mirrors hold them intact... leavin the heart to remain under attack... the beauty in their eyes neva seem to escape... remembered as if it were their own fuckin name... as each piece fits until laid out on the floor... scattered about as they're still adored... broken into even more of them split into personalities unrecognized in a dark room... steppin on emotion is the motion the sweepin of the broom... doin away with the misfortune that cut the heart wide open... thrown away to show true devotion... unwillin to see them us an image left to get their way... the edge hurts to much to allow them to stay... movin in slow motion every time u walk on by... as reflections only remind u of a different kinda life...
No comments:
Post a Comment