Bloody eyes folded; sensibility as an owl sits diligent on my right shoulder while fear as a crow perches over my left, both telling me the reality of a fantasy world built of ideals; both telling me that i'm walking past illusions which materialized, that the darkness i experience isn't far off from what the nature of everything is. How i have imagined that light is real - the sole thought that has given me purpose; and i plod along further still. Sometimes, my hope is all that i can consider bright; and i walk still.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment