Little lines, little lines,
Tell me now and true.
What is your purpose,
What is to be seen in you?
You cut me deep, to the bone,
Plaguing me, never leaving me alone.
Little lines, bloody little lines,
Are you great trenches, swallowing life?
Or great cracks in a breaking dam,
River cutting through you like a knife.
You remain like features carved in stone,
Plaguing me, never leaving me alone.
Little lines, paling little lines,
Nobody knows of you but me.
When I am gone, will you remain,
And finally someone else shall see?
Whisper to them secrets unknown,
Plaguing them, that they left me alone.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment