The pages yellow and the cover blue, Of a book she loved, a book due. See, April from the lands of sparkles, Met Matt from the land of stones. A story that was yet to startle, A girl from the land of lones.
And when those evening breezes hit my face everyday, I dont want to be trapped inside a cubicle where I couldn't even feel it. I want to be out in the sun, or the rain, or the winds and feel my heart ache
It scares me when I think about it, about how my life will come to an end.(or has it already?) Will it end with me lying on a bed somewhere in a chamber that feels worse than death, where my head will
