Half past one and a dial tone to match. I've fooled sleep one too many times. This clock doesn't seem to move when I want, or should I say that time has no regard when you do. Appearance is just that, brightly colored walls and a slowly burning match. I've fooled sleep one too many times, only to degrade myself. With each word left unsaid, with each feeling left un-shown, one thousand times the urge to show you exactly how much you mean to me. Why did it have to end so soon? Moments after you said, I love you, or so it seemed. (God I loved hearing those words.) I need to grow up.

SOUMETTRE LES CORRECTIONS