Life is a series of written pages,
Climaxes and minimum wages.
The words so carefully written
As life is craftily laden.
The hope of lovers,
With the fear of fevers.
The joy of new breath,
With the anguish of death.
The story isn't over quite yet,
Characters we haven't met.
The twisted road to life
Is sometimes paved with strife.
I can only tell you my story,
With you as my friend,
Just a tale of you and me
Till that last page says,
"The end."
If you think you can reach the sky,
Why don't you flap your wings to fly?
Always
Do you remember, when we were young, those promises we made?
The promise to be there for
Whosever room this is should be ashamed!
His underwear is hanging on the lamp.
Hi
Laid my head upon your chest
Your arms encircled me,
It was, My Love, as if we we
From the day I met you,
I never knew our love would be so pure and true.
Every ti
It seemed like a good idea at the time,
But looking back now I cringe just a little.
Your lips so soft and red.
The thought of kissing you is stuck in my head. &n
If you awake to one more dreary day,
an empty heart with empty hours to kill,
rem
If you were my rose, then I'd be your sun,
painting your rainbows when the rains come.
You bring the sunshine to my rain.
You give me love when I feel pain.
