I do not yet love well,
But boy, do I love hard.
I'm the squishy, slimy snail
With the crunchy shell.
I cry with my eyes closed,
I dream with my heart open,
I don't know who I am,
But I know who I would like to be.
Ouch, suppression. It hurts.
It's like heart burn. It is heart burn.
No comments:
Post a Comment