Thursday, 5 December 2019

For someone who will never read it...

Burning out.. Like a cigarette long forgotten, never meeting its purpose. It's poison rising in the cold air, a soul escaping a dying body. Put me out, squish my body to nothingness and destroy my fire. And in the end, blow my ashes from the coldest, highest mountain top, so that I can fly one last time. 

No comments:

Post a Comment