It only hurts as much as we love

We fall so deep

So hard

On a bed roses

Bleeding our skins, 

On prickles,

and razors, 

Of withering petals 

The falling skin with the passing ages

Wearies of a young man,

Troubled with the dawn of a mysterious tomorrow 

The society,

and it’s demands

The whispering streets 

These blurry faces jeering around the corners

“she is a bastard after all”



We fall to our demons,

Watery tongues and grinding teeth

Ripping through our hearts
The taste of innocence


Despicable faces and their shadows 
I saw a bald man pickup a comb, 

And bled his scrap

His blood running all over his face
She was talking to the mirror,

The lines around her delicate eyes, 

Fading the shade of her youth
My own enemy

The passions and the flesh, 

When we war through life

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