Suddenly
the freedom, to die the courage, for leaping dungeons; for I couldn’t love her,
the feeling of tensions, clogging his throat; and more to love her, the wrench
of insanity, to leave behind casualties.
We perish blindly, a wreckage of truths, to drain a heartbeat.
I
loved her warmly, to never save face, the grace of her blue blood; we trekked a
forest, to kiss the doves, to hold the geese; to feel for wings, the flight of
scars, as driven as miracles.
It
was ever the lights, a city of bulbs, to party so freely; and freely we flew,
to tiptoe canyons, to circle eternity; where claims were carved, and bars were
shattered, to return to broken squares.
How
to flourish, an enemy of humanity, scarring both man and child; I ask, to float
through realities, to see it crookedly, if only to reckon. It’s quite abusive,
the length and wave, a detrimental sketch; where pigeons cry, to see and
perish, and culprits flourish; but this is life, to
love
through deaths, the art of amazing—the skies of trauma;
