If you don’t know how you got where you are, you probably weren’t watching where you were going.
Hours pass, and she still counts the minutes that I am not there..
I swear I didn’t mean for it to feel like this—like every inch of me is bruised
Even though there’s no way in knowing where to go,
promise I’m going.
...But the beauty of grace is that it makes life not fair
...I can’t ask you to give what you already gave.
Excuse me, are you lost? Perhaps you would care to visit the site map