I have this rose in my hand
that I carry wherever I wander
I drag my feet along the thorns
and feel long intervals of sonder
the thorns are sticking into my flesh;
the blood seeping from it is fresh
for Death I keep growing fonder
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 12:17 PM UTC
I have this rose in my hand
that I carry wherever I wander
I drag my feet along the thorns
and feel long intervals of sonder
the thorns are sticking into my flesh;
the blood seeping from it is fresh
for Death I keep growing fonder
whatever