The Fog

The fog rolls in As my torcher begins I wish only to be your love But that is far too much above

My heart dies Because my soul cries My hell is finally here And I cannot have you dear

I want your arms Wrapped around me, keeping me from harm But you are far from me Amd there, you will always be

The fog shall not lift And the pain in my heart is a gift Since you will never love me There's nothing left here to see

By: Mika Buell July 23, 2001 1:00 a.m.

Inspired by: Not feeling love, at all. From anyone.