Broken, lost and confused
Heart torn asunder, scarred and bruised
Spinning, mind in a daze
Tears rolled down her face
Pain, regret, remorse and fear
All combined into a single tear
Falling down, scattered wide
In the darkness, alone, she cried
She pulled a blade, cut and sliced
Her body breathed her last on that night
In the morning they found her
A blade in her hand
In the other, a note
A request, a command
"Tell him I love him"
That much was true
She died that night, simply because He wouldn't say
"I love you"
The next night they found him
Bloodied, cut and bruised
A note in his hand
With his blood, he drew
"I'm sorry I couldn't say
But I loved her too..."
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Η τέχνη της ακρόασης χρειάζεται μεγάλη ανάπτυξη σε ακούγοντας τον εαυτό του[/size:a4b651b659][/align:a4b651b659]
The art of listening needs its highest development in listening to oneself[/align:a4b651b659][/size:a4b651b659]
[img:a4b651b659]http://i79.photobucket.com/albums/j147/darkanimekitsune/art-2Dmedia-DennisDalton-1.jpg[/img:a4b651b659][/align:a4b651b659]
The art of listening needs its highest development in listening to oneself[/align:a4b651b659][/size:a4b651b659]
[img:a4b651b659]http://i79.photobucket.com/albums/j147/darkanimekitsune/art-2Dmedia-DennisDalton-1.jpg[/img:a4b651b659][/align:a4b651b659]