It started here but now its done.
The war was fought yet no one won.
I struggle to open my burning eyes
Only to see the sun hasn't rised.
In a moment of pain, I grab my chest.
I rest my head, my breath near dead.
A flower will birth through my flesh
but until that day, may you never have rest.
Like me, this beautiful corpse decomposing.
3 comments:
Lets be honest, after reading this I miss your your writing, my writing, our writing.
How come, we leave behind such vital pieces of ourselves?
It wasn't a simple skin to shed like an outgrown garm. It is our skin. Fleshy and real, so that we would connect and grow through a dying art such as ours. An art of scientists and scholars.
Lets us were our skins again, friend!
And "wear" our spelling caps high on our heads again!
Ho hum!
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