Tuesday 13 September 2016

Call me Guilty Call me Frail

Travelin for miles with only broken glass in my pockets. my mind splintered, my heart no longer whole, and every hole an own goal. Nothing pure just let go. And who'll phone the taxi cause it's probably time we should go. I don't know if it was real, or really made up. But I'am split in two between the monster and the child that won't grow up. so hurry up the place is empty, were i keep my secrets aplenty. To many memories, and some might say not enough days. But i know you can help me, just promise you won't be mad when i run away

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