At this stage in my life I don’t think I'm going to write anything worthwhile.

jueves, 8 de mayo de 2014

The gilded faces grin, aware of my final demise.

When can I take you from this place? When is the word but a sigh? When is death our lone beholder? When do we walk the final steps? When can we scream instead of whisper? When is the new beginning,the end of this sad madrigal.

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