The memories of you used to linger in my pocket.
Day in and day out they sat there, reminding me.
This morning was the morning, I took these written moments,
And burned them as I sipped my Colombian brew.
A sad song of passing was playing in the background to remind
Me of how I was losing a part of myself.
I'm glad it's gone.
One by one the flames took hold of the minutes spent
Telling me what was not true.
With every bit of ink that evaporated to the morning sky,
I could feel my soul become lighter.
It's the last message, covered in gas,
The words shown through that thinly cut tree, dripping.
"I will alẃ̥̘̝̯͉ͅa̧̗̟̗̹̦̦y̖̰͎̳s̭̱̤̰̘͘ l҉̸̞o̢̠͍̦͓̯͍͢ͅv̘̹͎̪̟͘e y͘͏̵̧̞̩͕̣o͏̸̜͙̺̗͓̹̪u̶͕̙̪̝̹̘͈̙̞͖̗̻͓͎͇̙̜̙̝͡...."
あなたの記憶の灰はばらのように活気付く。
 Father Fluff · Wed Jul 22, 2009 @ 02:08pm · 0 Comments |
