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Dying with or without you

When the world turns

I plant my feet

I hope with all my heart

We never meet

In the eye of the storm

Where I stand alone

Surrounded by debris

Once pieces of my home

You haunt my dreams

I wish my memories to die

When my wooden box appears

Its like a catcher in the rye

So I turn with the world

But I refuse to shunt

Cause this is the one place

Your eyes no longer hunt

Remember me here

In the eye of this storm

You are the debris

Like my heart in its form

I will not move

Never will I plea

Though my feet stand fast

My heart fly free

Bunden vers (Rim) av RandomLines
Läst 271 gånger och applåderad av 2 personer
Publicerad 2013-12-01 19:26

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    ej medlem längre
målar en bild, mitt i stormen som viner runtom. fötterna fast på jorden. jordnära. hjärtat flyger fritt.. vackert skriftat..!

Så vackert!
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