The trains horn wails on, like a scarring injury.
And still I sit alone and wonder when the days will begin to make a path of there own.
Without any smidgen of hope, I tuck away my soul, far from any glimmer of utopia.
The trains horn wails on, like a scarring injury.
And still I sit alone and wonder when the days will begin to make a path of there own.
Without any smidgen of hope, I tuck away my soul, far from any glimmer of utopia.
(Source: cavum)
This whole falling for girls who don’t reciprocate back thing is getting old quickly.
I wish I didn’t become attached to girls so easily. I’ve had my heart broken too many times to have faith remain for long. But this time, I tell myself, it’s going to be different.