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The Light What brings the world round to die again like the frigid cinders of our youth; cold, damp, and bleak? We yearn for passing when hope seems most distant; clinging fervently to our love in futile, furtive efforts to endure. What might finally bring out the sun to break the clouds and our silence? Be it not the wind, nor broken tears; but a cry of passion to cast the darkness off. And now will we rest in lighted slumber, sitting our heads in heaven's lap; and breath will come gently easier to bless us its new life... But ever still the monster roams in our midst...
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Current Rantings - Obsessive - Chart - Wards - Asylum Neighbors - Asylum - Stalking - Wall Writings |
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