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A Confession of sortsI could tell you, I’m sure I could tell you, But I don’t think you’d understand How my blood runs cold, And how my heart is ice, Or my soul an icicled baron landA Confession of sorts
I could tell you, I’m most sure I could, But I believe there would be doubt Because my smile is so warm And my eyes still twinkle, But a flame still smokes Long after the fuel has burnt out
Some days I could tell you, But then you don’t have ears And I’m forced back to silence Back to myself And my mind is punished, And my heart is be
by ~allispeare
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good.
it's allison.
great.
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