They fall, warming my cheeks
Hot sting of tears on open wounds
Replacing the curse words and severe beatings Id rather give you
I bite my tongue and hold my breath
I fist my clothes and hide in my layer
You've bested me and I have retreated
But my tears don't come cheap
And my Lord will compensate me
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
0 comments:
Post a Comment