Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Thorn pricks...

You cut yourself to see,
If you bleed like everyone else.
And you find out that you do,
only more, so much more.
And you die of the love,
and you love of the pain.
And you hate this chord,
but you play it all the same.
If she told you that she loved you,
would you walk all the way.

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