Broken
I grew fond of, love I’ve never harbored. Oh to tell me that you love me, why would anyone choose to bother. Why must Mother Nature I chose to burden, she could never forgive me for the feelings I began to father. The wind blows as the breeze pass me by. Life’s cold, and so in warmth would I die. Misguided is the roots to the hidden truth. In our sin, the tree of lies bears the sweetest fruit. So what we do not speak, tends to be left unspoken. If only I let you save me, everything I am that is breaking, would have not become broken.
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