In a worn out lie, a distant memory snap-shotted with haste.The edges are frayed and the film is old and tinted with brown. The people I used to call my friends, stand around smiling. Trapped as I knew them before.
Now as I learned, it's just a worn out photograph and all I'm left with is just the memory of the people I once loved the people who have forgotten me so easily.
ČTEŠ
'Nevermore Than A Few Words'
Poezie"Dear god, make me a bird so I can fly, far far away from here." Jenny Curran