28 July 2012
Cursed to walk the earth.
Living in my skin, dying in the dirt.
In a bittersweet garden.
Those roses blooming red.
Fading their colors in seconds.
Dried up, hanging, dead.
Everything in my sight dull.
If I knew right, I'd say I didn't have a soul.
Cold over warm.
Hurricane over a storm.
Apparitions tearing their claws across my lined canvas.
Into thin air, my souls vanished.
Apparitions • Opuss № I