GothicButterfly93

Ours Written by John Christopher Clinton Growing up, I always looked to others Afraid to find an answer, that I alone discovered. What's happened since those days? How have I grown? How have I changed? If anything's different, I'd say, for certain, It's not my innocence. I still want your hand to come pick me off the ground I still wanna walk a thousand miles in your shoes I don't think I've ever pictured Any sorta life of My own; One without your hand to hold. Going home, I always followed the road Too scared to know where those, dirt trails would go. And where have I gone since then? Where am I going? How is it worth it?