Give me not your ungenuine glance,
Hide away your unhelping hand,
I have no place at all in my existence,
For anymore of those..
Why must you pretend,
Why go through with such a chore,
Why be a disgrace to all that remains of humanity..
Moths to a flame
The addictive intoxication of nostalgia, Leads many to the path of doom. Time and time again, they succumb, Flying into the Flame. Like moths, their insides burn, And their wings sing. They fall befuddled, Wondering where they went wrong.
Comments
Post a Comment