Hotel room

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And here we lay our scene

On a hotel floor.

We see a girl trying not to be seen.

She's wasting away,

But she writes her feelings out.

Just for herself though,

On paper she writes about her doubt.

It's become a barrier.

She writes until every piece of hurt is written.

It never matters the time,

Because in real life, her tongue is bitten.

Protection, she explains.

I wouldn't be looked at the same if they weren't buried.

And so happy, smiley girl she became.

Whispers of the WoundedWaar verhalen tot leven komen. Ontdek het nu