When the stars bleed into the night
When the mind thinks not
When the child cries over a grave
When the nightmares become dreams
When the comfort of arms is lost
When the lover no longer loves
When the fighter no longer fights
When every thing is broken and lost
I promise, my drear, that my mind will think, I will carry the child, I will vanquish the nightmares, I will be the arms of comfort, I will love the lover, I will fight the fighter and I will repair and find the world. And then and only then will I rest and bid you a goodnight.
YOU ARE READING
Emotions.
PoesiaPoems that I just kind of put together, I update slowly, I just kind of randomly publish all the ones I save up.
