Casting shadows of doubt,
tripping over myself.
Molten to the core,
put on the shelf.
Screws in my head,
pressure builds up,
Forty five degrees,
way to much.
Gauges turn red,
point of no return,
open the valve,
release or get burned.
Blinded by the steam
of terminal fates.
Staring alone
into the gates.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
Casting shadows of doubt,
tripping over myself.
Molten to the core,
put on the shelf.
Screws in my head,
pressure builds up,
Forty five degrees,
way to much.
Gauges turn red,
point of no return,
open the valve,
release or get burned.
Blinded by the steam
of terminal fates.
Staring alone
into the gates.
