Tricky is what I'm after, all creatures must succumb.
Blind is such an excuse.
A scattered mind hangs from a thin noose.
As tempting as it is to hold, I left.
While everyone was done.
It's all toxic, these few, these weak that fell before.
And every paragraph starts the same.
A chaotic place, In which the body neglects the mind.
How pitiful?
I've said tricky is what I'm after.
Pretending it's not a sin.
Not exactly what we have planned I agree.
Time is has never been a friend.
While every torn book shreds the smoke keeps me whole.
Everyone else will live.
Just a dream she says.
A dream.
And I fell short.
Twenty-two should have taught me something.
The plane that fed me crashed upon my tongue.
A fault of my own I'll admit.
Without that last breath about me,
the fire stands still...