Why I'll Never Marry

My heart is full of pretty things.
A hollow shell, it holds,
a promise made, a promise broke
by a pretty boy turned old.

When I am cold and unforgiving
they love me until they die.
But should I soften, slightly,
they run like hell and hide.

(c) 2003 by (++)Laura(++). All Rights Reserved

My Subliminal Guide To Insanity