This Trauma Is Colder than life...
But Then Where Would It End...
This rupture brought by your Knife Of Loving Sins...
Precocious With Life, Yet So Internally Lost Within...
Your hate Seeps Eternally On an Ahin Veil Of Skin...
I'm Sad,....,
Sad Like Butterflies Pinned To Cardboard Boxes...
Sad Like Books With Torn pages.., Ocean Shores Empty of Bathers...
I Am Sad Like Unfinished Stories... Where Would I go With All This..., yet To live Alone!.......
Till then i succumb to ur pain...,
Die in ur arms...,
Feel ur breath that one last time...,
Till I rise again...
Like a phoenix...
From the ashes...........
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