Oct 2015
I lie awake,
listening to the unearthen trees
whisper their rose petalled lies
prophesying the return of my hope.
Whilst the wind's mournful kisses
die gracefully
in a futile attempt
to form the epitome of
happiness.
listening to the unearthen trees
whisper their rose petalled lies
prophesying the return of my hope.
Whilst the wind's mournful kisses
die gracefully
in a futile attempt
to form the epitome of
happiness.
