Wednesday, February 12, 2020

Sweet madness

Even flowers can bloom in a pile of trash
Ribs are just cages for the real beasts
Strum the chords and settle my soul
No one can save me from the sweetest madness
No one can save me from myself


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All the grief that swallows us whole is pooling over the edges and bleeding into everything; changing the shape of what it touches. 

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