I built my house there Brick by brick The foundation was weak I knew this And yet I built Hoping with every tear, Sweat, and drop of blood
By Anne J. Hill5 years ago in Poets
What was, what is, what will be Is never the same A constant turning of the clock With each strike, time changes Faces come, faces fade
I sit, reading the words I once wrote about you And I'm realizing that they are just no longer true And I have no idea what to do
Sometimes it sounds fun to delve headfirst into a lake of emotions Just treading over every feeling that name makes me feel
