Bed Of Nails
I can't believe,
there's still so much I want to say,
and all this time I was afraid,
and as I leave,
a part of me will soon remain.
Why whole life I was afraid?
Look at me now,
I'm lying in a bed of nails that we both made together.
I guess I"ll just lay here forever.
Ironic how I'm crying at the sound of sunsets caused by our endeavor,
I'd rather die here than have never said goodbye.
I finally see, that every stone's been left unturned and every poem is filled with lies,
but should I be inclined to force what can't be found,
when my own heart is still alive?