love to me is nothing but a lie. What are the chances of finding true love? Its small. To Small. Its just like findind the perfect shell in all the seven seas. Just on perfect shell. Some take their chances and end up broken. Their hearts shattered like glass. Those little daggers start to tear up their souls. Then the glass melts into water. The water of salty, sweet tears that creates rivers of sorrow down faces and their hearts burn in pain. People wish they could rip their own hearts to stop the inferno. The candle that keeps every person living. Their flame was first stinguish by lies then by truth. Love is all lies and its not what it seems. |
|
|
Comments