...or did you
loathe it?
Times when
my soul is shrowded in some sort of bitterness, a hate that I can't even begin to comprehend looms over my
it's a small world
after all.. that is when I ramble into my
invisible tin can. "It
scares you, I know, I saw you flinch as you read
it, I saw the
hurt look on your face." It creates a little
echo, that only I can hear.. my little tin can feels
nothing, these
words mean little to an imaginary
Universe.
you can't even touch
the hopelessness that i feel
and i don't want you to
because it's mine..
it's all i have
they say that you need love
that it will save you
through the good times and the bad
but love breeds hate
and hate sells death
so if you don't mind
i'll stay here alone
i don't need your 'comforting arms'
they're like an iron vice
crushing me slowly