glustora

Do they not see me breaking; shaking like a leaf in the wind that wants to rip me from my lifeline. The pipeline through where happiness drips, talks but not walks. The walk of a liar. Because the lick of fire is ever. For forever. And the endeavor we surrender to knows no light, because the fight it seers gives it some kind of sick delight. But basking in the light, it is not right for the lost ones to remain within the pain, unable to take the strain while all around, no one eases this mark of Cain.