Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Stop

There comes a time when beauty stops caring

The lights turn red

End is it

Fragility begets eternity

Where? I'm starting not to care

These swamps of sadness sink me to the depths of that bottomless pit; a curse has reminded me of a  past my right hand did not touch.

Anger is my fire.

I will torch these thorns before this rose withers and dies.

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