Many times, silence is my escape.
But rarely, silence has been my refuge.
My thoughts haunt me.
---
Pass the gust of the cold desolate shadow,
I've struck the golds and writhed with perpetual wallow.
Dark as the night whispering thru my ears,
I've stood still, covered by the primeval beast.
I remained wounded by the heat of an open fire,
clasping, grasping, running out of breathe.
1 comment:
Hang in there, buddy. "We are the champions my friend," you know that, "and we'll keep on fighting 'tll the end"...Hugs and kisses!
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