The irony was lost to him, of complaining of polluted skies, when the remains of burning plant matter left his lungs. You are the victim and the perpetrator, to the crimes that you cry wolf to. You are the God of your own anguish, Mothered by pain, and your reluctance to change. Fathered by the passing of time, that makes you realize– your own mortality.
I wanted Love, but met Rape; standing in the corner of every bar. I wanted Love, but met Sin; In every tongue that was spoken. I wanted Love, but met You; who told me that I’m worthless. I wanted Love, –wanted– For now I want nothing, no more. For the anger in your eyes, and the venom in your tongue; brought a coldness to your heart; but a richness to your guise. Fooling me, Teasing […]