Vg Hotbit888 - Let The Paper Tear

I found a moth in a matchbox
It was sleeping with the ashes
Like the night it signed a truce
With the thing that burns it
My mother kept a bowl of keys
For doors that had disappeared
She said some locks are only a habit of the hand
And I learned
A scar is just a scene
That forgot to be a shame and
I learned the smallest room in me can still hold a hurricane
Let the paper tear