We hide behind them
We live behind them
We act as them
But will no one see the darkness within me?
Or is my mask glued on to tight to be taken off
So my face shall see the light
Or remain in the shadows, filled with spite
YOU ARE READING
Death Comes With A Rose.
PoetryJust poems, er..vents about life...the stupid little things I don't like...you don't have to read...but please do...
