None other than,
a nostalgic beat.
Now confined to solitude.
Whereas a scalpel bleeds,
And I can’t sleep tonight.
Put out the torches,
To light the dreams of regret.
Have you noticed?
All the fallen tears at your feet?
A momentary relapse?
Or perhaps your failing grip on reality.
To exhume the carcass of dreams,
Laid (scattered) at your feet.
Holding hearts through wrenching fingers.
Only to watch them slip away.
Ripping glass along the way.
Corsing veins spilling testimony,
Along your roads of flesh.
Running now towards a heart.
All too soon,
To cease.














Comments
Sup.
--
So fragile..yet so devious.
Previous PageNext Page