My love lies in tatters,
In the beauty of a lonely imagination,
Through shards of glass,
She builds alone.
My love asks for ideas,
After all, she wants salvation,
We have lived as ordinary for too long,
Under neon anguish.
In her precious moments,
My love thinks of her death.
My love lies on her bed,
With explosives around her breast.
I am to raise her,
And send her on this journey of pain,
My love tries too hard,
To imagine a world that isn’t there.
She thinks she will fix it,
With the will of her heart,
She will die quickly,
Beneath tormented skies.
No comments:
Post a Comment