Do not let people shroud your morality, for when your bones turn to dust only it remains.

you wear trauma like high fashion,
emotion laced in passion.

I could not even love  myself.

and if i fall
dont catch me
acting like you cared at all
blood on your hands, luminol

"at what point do you give up?"
"never."
"but why? how does it make any sense to continue to hurt?"
"because i have seen you in bliss. the kind where your heart races and i know for fact you feel alive. you recognize that it is all somehow worth it. even if just for a moment."

You lie
How you ****
Poorly, without passion.

The art of deceit
is within eyes that
tell only the shallowest of lies.

Between piths of grey
and dark harbor nights
God speed to those in your light.