There was no filter over her scars
For she lived in her stories that were her works of art
And no one had the key to unlocking her mysteries
But only she had the power to live her stories in reality
And in a dream.
YOU ARE READING
This is one secret I can't spill or tell
PoetryThe one secret of her dreams that she won't be able to tell is how she grew to love the man of mystery They say that you should confront the source if there is a secret to be told But what if that secret wasn't meant to be told It was just to remain...
