There's a hollow box containing coldness
Somewhere in the passage of my voice
Along where my breathing comes and goes
I tried to let it all out to free myself
From the questions it is packed with
But the more I do, the colder the air becomes
I feel a thousand hot daggers in my chest
All in the size of the biggest needles
The heat of the blades burn the surface
I try to pull it off to rid myself of it
To take the puzzles afar and away
But the more I do, the hotter the pain becomes
No comments:
Post a Comment