Another day drawn out way too long.
Emotions now congealed.
The feeling isn't mutual.
A flick of the wrist, an snap of the blade, another throat cut.
Wheres the love, the courage, growth?
The great intentions failing
Hold them out and crawl.
The divine words of chaos
You will not see me fall.
The final straw is ablaze
I'll see it through the end of days.
These wounds won't kill me,
They make me grow in size.
Attempt to use them
And I will surely rise.
Only in my final hour will
Things surely sour,
but not yet.
 Father Fluff · Wed Feb 20, 2008 @ 05:37pm · 0 Comments |
