To die such a beautiful death and to have never lived,
what a way to end it all. I have never felt such power
as when the knife lies bloody at my side. Could it be
that love is a broken china doll? God a figment or my
imagination?
No, that can't be right. Love a china doll? God a figment
of a twisted mind's deadly imagination? No, not that.
Truth is a tiger's breath, rancid with the smell of death,
dripping with the poison of living a lie. Love is not a
reality, but a child's dream that lies forgotten in a corner
after much time.
Whoever said love existed, must have been trying to
make the world a happier place, change the frown on the
face of the human race. Well, love does not heal, it kills
and it fades and it lies by to ensnare me. Love is a grave,
deep and hollow, waiting for a bride to fall into it's muddy
arms, and fill the space that was so long empty.
So let all that is broken and bleeding flow to the sea, entrapt
in a watery tomb and forgotten by a world that no longer
feels. I will remain, drowned and held beneath bloody waves
of love. No man shall see me, lest he be dead and drowning
like me. And we will be a forgotten world's last goodbye, a
goodbye to all the hypocrisy and lies.
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