Life may be an illusion and i may be it's slave.
Yet here i am, so close to the flame
Of life, light and delight.
Burn, i might.
Die? I couldn't. Wouldn't ever, if given a chance.
Every day i refuse to choose, i dance
In my ashes, the wind is my partner.
Hurt has never been softer.
YOU ARE READING
Collection of poems
PoesíaWords, just fucking words - that's all they ever were, all they ever will be
