Moribund dreams of grey damned skies;
And screams of profanity as it dies.
Stare at me with those midnight weary eyes;
While I’ll swallow the words struck on your lips.
I want the damned echo in my veins;
To turn to the heart that calls your name.
Suspended between a breeze and a tsunami;
I guess I’ve taken a soft spot for you.
I am a neat monster, never forget that;
With a vacous darkness that even light can’t help decipher.
I know souls are not broken glass;
I’m afraid I’d leave you with scars.
Though I leave everyone and everything scattered and shattered;
I hope everything is good for you like what dreams are made of.
No Responses