It bruises my illusions,
the dreams I fantasize.
Maybe it hurts to not always get my love back,
wounded like a child,
but it does not harm.
The real person that I am.
It bruises my illusions,
the dreams I fantasize.
Maybe it hurts to not always get my love back,
wounded like a child,
but it does not harm.
The real person that I am.
Tags:
No responses yet