Our Autumn

A story with toxic sides

And from ego, it’s hard to describe..

If I could turn back the hands of time

I wouldn’t cease to sacrifice

To hew our  figment of happiness

And future made of agony….

Purification…

hallucinations….

Hesitations..

Isolation…

A melody designed by Gods

Far beyond what meets the eye

Angels paint souls to align

Broken-Fragile & divine..

Golden tears & null smile

A fearful touch brings life

And breath craves as lips intertwined..

Momentarily escaped beyond horizon

Far from world addicted poison…

Insomnia..

Nostalgia..

Freedom..

Fever..

Relief…

Nomad in our autumn I stand

Distant yet close I am..

Image

Umberto Mazzone Art

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About The Holy Whore

I have no respect for the status quo. View all posts by The Holy Whore

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