Be gentle: What you're holding is my heart.
Remember in your honesty my pride.
If you don't want to see me, please don't hide
The truth, yet tell it with some art.
Though you may not have asked for me to call,
A single leap of hope must be allowed.
Not easily are shy songs sung out loud.
Yet now I wait alone outside your wall.
Remember in your honesty my pride.
If you don't want to see me, please don't hide
The truth, yet tell it with some art.
Though you may not have asked for me to call,
A single leap of hope must be allowed.
Not easily are shy songs sung out loud.
Yet now I wait alone outside your wall.
This entry was posted
on Mar 24, 2009
at 1:06 PM
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feels,
poem
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