In the eyes of this bewitching shadow,
our minty laughs are only hollow;
for we have succumbed to this inquietude,
we have succumbed to this ugly solitude;
we are now falling into this vortex,
of which our feelings hold only complex;
we are now glimpsing our desolation,
we are now rising to this temptation,
we are now falling into this sorrow,
wherein we know not to breathe tomorrow.
YOU ARE READING
poesy of doom
Poetry❝ why is nurturing sorrow like sprouting a tree, why are we not the humanitarians that we would like to be? ❞ ━ my book of poesy that drips of the warmth of saturn; the wrath of hades. do not read if you are not prepared to embrace this cryptical gl...
