The fragile words float astray.
Men’s weak hearts and so are they,
To dwindle like the grass in a storm.
The worlds they know or are yet to be known?
The brittle acts float astray.
Men’s weak hands and so are they,
A lance that cannot be held up high
A fallen man bears a fallen sigh!
The pathetic lives float astray.
Men’s weak hopes and so are they,
Why shall only a few be brave?
When all are set to taste the grave.
I'm not meant to fit in
-
I’m not meant to fit in.
Fitting in has had me dancing to many fiddlers tunes,
led me down strange and alien alleyways
writing stories of someone els...
4 days ago

