I sat on the roof to contain my cure,
Because not enough to shut the door,
Lounged in the rain to ease the healing wounds,
Again rumors may come and damage me soon,
I went from pure sand,
To dirty old dust,
Nine hits of rumors,
Silver to rust,
Ashes of the weak side of me lies within my soul,
Can't let that side loose, it will lose control.
All (c)Copyrights reserved by the Original Author.
