purple boys burn out fast. candles can't hold their flame and neither can the hands of helios himself, for even the hands of primordial gods cannot keep fleeting emotions in place. there are too many cannot's and i start to doubt even the truth itself - but withering purple boy, with his saccharine smile and his grandfather clock eyes, assure me beyond mortal relief. water rushes over him in great torrents as if it is going to cleanse him, but we all know how much purple boy has sinned. no amount of sanctity placed upon his cursed aura will ever cure him of the wrath he has once caused.
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should i unpublish most of the works i made before "addicted"? i feel like they aren't my best idk
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paraphernalia
Poetrypretentious poetry. FOREWARNING: this was written over three years. my style changes dramatically, as does everything else. quality of pieces varies.
