I’m not a perfect creature; I mistakenly care too much. I’m the disembodied voice in life, with the cataclysmic touch. For years I have walked this earth, edified by many who’ve been and gone. I’ve been hustled, I’ve been played and good Lord have I been torn. I will not preach and I do not … More Guilty
Secondhand serenade; their music echoed through the night. Bleeding the need to feel warmth; lonely shadows haunted by moonlight. Divided chance, restricted by the decree of choice. Through illicit chemicals, that imperfect human finally found her voice.