December 2009
4 posts
I’m sick of everything that I come to love
Breaking apart, blown into dust by the wind
As if it was never there.
It’s easier to forget the love of all
When the bad times show
Than to remember the bad times indefinitely.
I’m sick, but I’m not the one dying.
Create that which will make the angels cry and the dead rise simply to witness such beauty.
Dreaded muse upon your throne
Sing me a whimsical song
One which will make me fall
Within your grasp
For dreaded muse! I love you so
Your magic within control
I wish to have for my own
Take me away
