Your stories enrapture me, little pockets of golden dust,
That I call a truce to my war within.
While even with the pain searing through my slain mortal body,
Truth speaks to me in such a pathetic tone of beautiful
I'm once again enamoured by your promises,
for there's no one else I trust.
I die a thousand deaths,
Just as I lose myself within me.
I live a thousand years, in
the shackles of your words,
Freedom takes me its adoptee.
YOU ARE READING
Nobody's Musings
PuisiA collection of short stories and writings when I am in the mood for melancholy. There is hope in loss, just look beyond to find a broken soul repairing itself through pen and paper.
