What a lonely life we lead.
Where everything we touch dies.
When you realize how dark the night is,
How much we crave things we can never really have.
The thoughts stay with us constantly, and our search never seems to cease
But when borne from dust,
We return to dust
Curse these silly little things called feelings.
When you've worked yourself to the bone,
When you’ve done your all,
When you wish to fall into another's arms,
But instead curl into a ball.
What a lonely life we lead.
© aura.wrote