"Dust thou art to dust returnest"


Sunday, April 14, 2013


Crumble like the leaves
Dried and wilted 
Passionate to the core
Belonging to nothing but distance. 
If only words were understood 
If only disease would heal, autoimmune.

Crumble like the leaves... 

Spring is here, over a year...
Riding on the wings of a angel profane.
Though I'm far from rebirth 
I feel as though I've died
Yet still suffer the tragedies of not knowing how to live. 

The great fear of life, where passion is the sedative. 

When everything we love is somehow strangely connected. 

Passionate to the core.


The sweet wind releases us...

Just wanting to let you go.
Because I can't bare to do more harm to you. 
Graciously, don't forget to breathe
Be strong, more powerful than I ever have. 

No comments:

Post a Comment