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As he stepped from his vehicle; he lifted his...

George Sandler was a big boy. He was ten years...

Written by Sorrow Is My Mask

Saturday, 22 March 2008

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Host

This is going to bring me to my knees

The thought of losing her to this selfish disease

This virus attaches to my every thought

Good thoughts always turn to wrong

But not even she can see

This harsh personality in front of her is not me

These judgments, I keep making in my own little world

I keep relating to the crippled soul before

And it's not right, I know this analyzation is not right

But my squirming insides are too weak to fight

I have become this infection's host

Soon she will be talking to a ghost

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