All too often I find that I keep you
Here.
I am the shackle of the revolutionary soul
The selfish platonic bond
An unhealthy chemical mixing always
with your chromosomes
You are the flower that
I picked up
And adored who became the object of my affection
In doing so
Elegantly ripped from the earth in which you prospered righteously
I killed you
I killed you so unknowingly
And if I could bring you back to life
The death of me; myself
That might bring you back to life
What will bring you back to life
Feb 4, 2014
Feb 4, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
All too often I find that I keep you
Here.
I am the shackle of the revolutionary soul
The selfish platonic bond
An unhealthy chemical mixing always
with your chromosomes
You are the flower that
I picked up
And adored who became the object of my affection
In doing so
Elegantly ripped from the earth in which you prospered righteously
I killed you
I killed you so unknowingly
And if I could bring you back to life
The death of me; myself
That might bring you back to life
What will bring you back to life
Should I let you go?
