Synesthete کے بول

The truths an injury, never healed Every time you walked away the scab was torn Leaving an open wound that I couldn't fend to Despite my most desperate efforts If there were something that I could've Done to fix myself and regulate…regulate To stabilize and smile, to shrug it off And rid myself of this tightness In my chest I would have done! This vessel - this soul Appeared from a distance as strong But there was little Next to nothing Holding it up I dread to dream what without these words id be Feel of the sun upon your wings I dread to dream what without these words id be Feel of the sun upon your wings