Picking at the scabs of life's decisions,
leaving only bloody visions.
Seeing with the eyes of an infant,
wishing for space and distance.
Hating all things in the past,
knowing far to well that time will pass.
Leaving us with empty wishes,
hollow kisses,
and near misses.
All good things come to an end,
as will I;
never to think again.
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.08 seconds at 2:06am on Nov 13, 2024 via server WEBX2.