paint my death in your blood
so the world may know my essence
and the colour of my suffering
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@voidsunsuggestions
paint my death in your blood
so the world may know my essence
and the colour of my suffering
A little mouse pleaded,
"Why is it you love the dying flower so?"
"The dying flower's beauty, like your life, is ephemeral; soon it will rot away to nothing—just like you.'"
It'll hurt less later. But only because you'll be different
In absolute silence we whisper to unseen guests
"Welcome please don't ever leave."
Like a prayer
We hate being lonely.
In the realms of the forsaken, the pale sun's dying glow caressed the decaying flowers.
Can't you feel her ghastly gaze upon your feeble flesh?
How many times are you going to let this one thing go?
The line between valour and foolishness blurs when you sink your teeth into plague ridden flesh.
Have you forgotten the pain of crumbling already?
Human malice and divine mercy burn in your eyes. Bitterness still lingers on your tongue. You cannot find your way home.
We are merely a guest in this corporeal vessel reaching for starlight long since slipped from our sights
All the leaves are burnt, the sky is red
Calamity fell unto you in silence yet be afraid not and listen
You may just hear our wordless whispers.
Stillness in the air makes your restless hearts tremble the most. It is hard pretending your chest is empty now, isn't it?
Your heart is burning.
It's melting.
It's wholly vanished.
But you feel at ease now. You are free.
Late night when the dark sun whispers, do you feel the glacial tranquility of our beconing?
Tears of joy or pain, they are just a matter of perspective
Human malice and divine mercy burn in your eyes. Bitterness still lingers on your tongue. You cannot find your way home.
Heaven is breakable.