The gift My gift to you is somewhat strange, its hidden and silent, alone and unheard, pull round it still lives beneath the darkened sun, its love and hope and frenzy and sight, its populateing whats right and wrong, it cried for life, and I heard it cry, Ive tried to swindle its spirits high, to let other people wonder of its glow, its bite for never-ending happiness, our burn for eternal peace.
To give these its hard, to respect them its harder, Ive watched others, and seen them call on inside out, lying through the pain of their gritted teeth, do they recognise of love? ...If you want to get a full essay, realize it on our website:
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