in the land of past where the echoes of memories creating bridges to lead into,
there was i standing on a wild familiar ground waiting for the time to come by.
i have so much regret,
i should've started cutting the poison out before it got all over my corse.
i should've just tame these figures because no other things are built to last.
not even the world we live in.
not even you and me.
my heart always wanted to stay until it's time,
when my brain wants to keep moving but not until i get drown by these tortured poetries that i wrote inside my secret garden.
but i think it's my futurity to decide on how to write the next lines.
i'll be just here, standing and waiting for the time to come by.
YOU ARE READING
Desperate Nightmares, Old Habits Die: Prose and Poetry
Poetryi live in a poetic life but dying from your poisonous lies. we live in vain, so we drink until we get drunk in our own mistakes and sins. but still making out with the devils, but in the back of my mind, i'm with you - haunting me stunningly.
