My release doesnβt lie
In the blood that stains
Your carpet,
Or the tears that soak into
Your pillow,
Or the screams that pierce
The still night calm,
Not even in the **** that
Snakes into my senses,
Wishing to melt into
Whatever I was before
Star light emanating from
Afar;
Old light pulsing from the new skies
(I want to see myself in that light
A time before I gave in to the night)
Emptiness drains , but I think itβs because I have a lot of time on my hands to think rn.