Aprosìa

Shakespeare's memories

From fairest creatures we desire increase,
that thereby beauty’s rose might never die,
but as the riper should by time decease

thou are imploring the devil for having to thy flower again.
From devotional eyes to hypocritical tongue
thou made fading thyself in a circle of beautiful pain.

Integrating disintegration and drowning me in this cold winter of mine
there's no way thou could mak'st light in the hell
because I know thou love watching me crying while I'm dyin'.