he finds his pu…

6 Apr

he finds his pulse numbing,

fading with every tick passing,

stop him for he doesn’t have to go,

leaving the dust, this soul forlorn.

he is making a bride,

widow already.

She dreams about the things yet undreamed,

Preparing to suffer for being sinless.

he cares for none, as he passes by,

and unsings the song once memorized.

Her mind wanders to regain her Eden,

wandering aimlessly, only to repeat the pattern. 

feel his pain that makes him unnatural,

nay, hold his hand and sense it

in your bones, the withering hopes.

There she stands, the wretched skin,

with shattered myths, and dreams unfulfilled,

An owl hoots, for here breathes a bird of ill.



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