• neuronwreath 96w

    Plea...ease.

    There she goes writing crappy poetry again,
    Please answer the phone,
    Don't leave her on read.
    Or let her go.
    Without a goodbye.
    She was building her self back.
    From the ruins made with shattered dreams and blurred memories.
    Day by day, she watered it with her tears.
    Strengthened by Grace.
    But you are her reckoning!
    Like a directionless gust of wind,
    Leave her desolate.
    Nevermind!
    Her Hope comes from above,
    She will build an immovable Foundation.
    Maybe you can't help it?
    Like a moth you are drawn to her light.
    She is not good at putting up a good fight.
    But the battle belongs to the Lord.
    Didn't say I didn't warn you, for the record.
    ©neuronwreath