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,
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.
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.