Metaphor
I gave you stories, I gave you poems
I gave you a life, somewhere out of reality
I used my life, for pages in a book
I used my blood, for the ink you see and read
When the blood is spilled, in front of the book
Your character developed, your journey begins
The more you read, the more you get drawn in
It became your new home, it became your new life
Down the journey, you met new friends
With them you cried, and with them you laughed
When the pages start to cut, you start to feel the pain
Like I'm holding a pen, as sharp as the sword to your throat
You watch them all die, and crumbled in the plot
You had your heart broken, and soul torn apart
So when the blood stopped, the chapter came to an end
You then realized, I brought you back to reality, once again
© Frost hill
I gave you a life, somewhere out of reality
I used my life, for pages in a book
I used my blood, for the ink you see and read
When the blood is spilled, in front of the book
Your character developed, your journey begins
The more you read, the more you get drawn in
It became your new home, it became your new life
Down the journey, you met new friends
With them you cried, and with them you laughed
When the pages start to cut, you start to feel the pain
Like I'm holding a pen, as sharp as the sword to your throat
You watch them all die, and crumbled in the plot
You had your heart broken, and soul torn apart
So when the blood stopped, the chapter came to an end
You then realized, I brought you back to reality, once again
© Frost hill