Confession
My dear Princess, you are right.
Words sharpened to hurt, are neither good nor needed.
A rich poisonous concoction of pain and tears.
The black pool of resentment welling up inside, I cannot deny.
I can no longer think of you in a positive light.
Where is the sense in picking at leftovers?
Thus I say, we move on from our own roads.
And never look back.
Words sharpened to hurt, are neither good nor needed.
A rich poisonous concoction of pain and tears.
The black pool of resentment welling up inside, I cannot deny.
I can no longer think of you in a positive light.
Where is the sense in picking at leftovers?
Thus I say, we move on from our own roads.
And never look back.