What if your grandmother whom passed away long ago, whom you admired and loved the dearest were to visit you in your dreams one night, in your hidden world, and say, 'Your Life is masquerade ball; the suitors sullied with deceit; you'll never find happiness in dark'
Would I cry or would you brush it off as abnormal dream? Solemly faliing back to sleep, Slowly my will to break free lessons, I'm falling will I be caught or will I always end up covered in dirt. My soul lost in the heart of time,
For something that'll seal away emptiness and
In The Walls Of Buna
piece by piece,
my essence breaks away
Bit by bit,
I feel it decay
Bullying: Is Not Always Physical (To School Professor)
What is it, I am I just optimistic or pitiable?
My legs are weak as gun at point blank,
My eyes threaten to trickle with tears,