Misconceptions of Me.

Wed, 10/02/2013 - 21:12 -- missv

The delicate form of my temple are never as fragile nor weak,

 

The smile that features in my eyes,

do not reveal the misery my soul’s torn from.

 

I push away the things I’ve wanted,

and cry for the emptiness in my chest.

 

I become an old soul,

but transform into a newborn persona, who’s only stubborn and foolish.

 

 

The words slip away from my lips,

while my thoughts confine themselves in my mind.

 

 

By day, I’m content.

By night, I’m lost.

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