Theres a new one.
A new tear to fall.
A new dream crushed.
A new half hearted scar on my wrist.
Ridgid and thoughtless.
I fell into a crimson mist.
The only way out is promised by a blade.
The smal puddle forms, surrounds me, slowly takes me in.
Is it worth it to die a little each day all for the unseen charity ?
The vast horizon fades into memories.
But then is washed out by the future.
The careless sun trades for a moon.
The sinister smiles become slits of fait.
Life goes on slowly.
And i wait for red relief to guide me back to a new one.
About Me.
- Emma Cherry
- In a yellow sumbarine, Liechtenstein
- We must blend into the choir Sing as static with the whole. We must memorize nine numbers and Deny we have a soul. And in this endless race for property and Privilege to be won. We must run, we must run, we must run.
