this is the rapture;freeform souls traipsing in the river Styx; convoluted feelings, frivolous
gestures and a mishmash in the fabrication of fate - all for the destruction of all mankind. Atlas can no longer bear the burden of humanity; forgiveness is lacking and hatred is mutual; this is a travesty - the earth smothered in pain, the gods look down displeased, dispassionate and at the center of it all is you - you and your tired eyes, sore bones and porcelain skin, haunting me like a poltergeist, soulless and benign;
YOU ARE READING
Arsonist's Lullabye
PoetryShe was not meant to fall in love with a mortal. [COMPLETED]