These
scars of mine, trailing down my
arms
and into my soul.
The
twilight of my past, reflecting a bitter
sweet
symphony.
A
single tear of blood trails down a ravaged
cheek
of despair.
The
sun above beating against my flesh like
broken
shards of glass.
A
dagger in my heart, dark red blood
dripping
down my pale lips.
So
what are these ravaged souls on a single
blade
of tarnished glass?
A
whisper in the wind, a cry of a lonely hawk
on
a still blue day.
Alas
the trivialities of morality as all morals
are
mortal.
Sweet
nectar of bitter tea as this throne
of
swords bite into my pale flesh.
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