suicide (Remove filter)
Eyes of the storm
Cut me open, bleed me dry
A knife not a tool, a liberator
There is the forgiving woman with sorrow
Deep in those eyes, to a place
I am oh so unfamiliar with
There are places you know, you see
It is the dark holding our sparks
A flock of deft touches and harmony
Yet the pulse of the thunder rolls over
Sparks scattered, hidden or gone
You will never, never...
Sunday 18th August 2024 11:58 am
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