The thought of my Acomplishments,
Wans the Desire of my heart,
Carving into my very Essence,
Believing Life is too hard.
Despising the days of Shame,
None is ever too Sweet to savor,
Always in seeking of others to Blame,
In the end, I am my own Devil.
None had said it was Easy,
With repetition of Lifes Cruelty.
- Mood:
Screwed - Listening to: silent...
- Watching: the sky... clouds