I am Afraid, not of you but of me.
I am afraid of the scars that run so deep.
The scars of tears that were once shed,
Upon the wrists of sorrow; the passion of dread.
I wear my dress, the color of ebony,
To the sound of the piano as I walk out in the snow,
Walking towards the graves of you and me...
What else is there to know, but?
Source: http://nerdfighters.ning.com/xn/detail/1833893%3AUser%3A2402529?xg_source=activity
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