the house of love we seek;
to fill empty holes that peek;
weak souls harden most;
a prison we proudly boast;
a cry for help behind closed doors;
take my hand and pain of yours;
for one must love themselves;
for self-love is one's own wealth.
— Anastacia
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ANASTACIA
PoetryA compilation of poems about love, reality and distorted fantasy. Thoughts to words - Touch to feelings - Sight to memories - All I can offer to you in writing. - Anastacia Cover belongs to its rightful owners.
