| True voice |
| Sin is a word I love yet hate, I wonder why I debate. I have given up everything I love. Everythin I hate. So why do I give a damn If it's half past eight. To sit and ponder why I still live live for my friends, my family and what not. Although my arms are bloody I am strong, yet I live through pain unbearable. I cry at night. Smile at day, wondering who can give me sight to the light. Covered in darkness to hide my face. I scream and I hear only an echo. Yet, it does not sound like me. It laughs, but I am the only one there. I start to laugh, it cries. This confuses me Am I alone ,or do I shut others out. Did I kill my own soul? Is it my fault? Yet why do I care? Because it's only half past eight. |
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