The dead blossoms of romance
stomped into wet tarmac
I'm all heartache
no more bones to break.
While you, drunk and disorderly
await your next feed
My eyes, spring showers
Unpredictable
I vent my sorrow with no clarity
'The knowledge often teased me in the threadbare self confidence of small hours.'
But this is my fear
You are my enemy
I've presumptions to make
conclusions to jump
Cant you see i'm fucking busy?
Already mastered self deceit
now must learn defeat
Under the guise of patching myself up
Disorder
('Got the spirit, Lose the feeling.')














Comments
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"Mark my words comrade, one day things will change; We will take the fight to their land, to their people, to their blood."
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