It grabs my neck with its cold, pale, hands.
It squeezes harder, and harder, and harder
I'm almost out of breath when it let's go
I fall gasping, the cold seeps in me and i curl up and cry
why do i cry over something so stupid?
The hands left bruises on my neck as if to say "ill never go away"
They always come back to finish the job but never will
They love to make you wait for them
Sometimes you wish they come
Sometimes the knife whispers to kill the hands
Yet you cry harder at these thoughts
Why do theses tears keep coming?
And somewhere deep inside you say "because you let them"
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