本音

by ty

Honne, 本音。

Mere creatures made from

concoctions of flesh and bone;

clumpy spaces and moisture –

foolish believers of the concept of love,

stuck within the bijou radius,

encircling idiocy.

Idiocy indeed,

fools running hastily beneath the sun

our skin peeling at the rough touch of gravel –

with exertion and fatigue comes solace,

strength comes with weakness.

tacenda;

things better left unsaid –

yet within the sweaty grasps of

my petty fists, they slip through my fingertips;

the reigns over my speech, over my consciousness

and once again the plummet has come;

Afterall we’re just tainted souls, the ones who are undeserving.

the ones who should’ve been left to crumble, along with the burning roses and empty shells.

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