Watch me shift
Look at all this dark made bright light
To me, Grief and Love are the same beautiful
Both have unraveled the twine that bound my organs to their rightful spots
I run hot
like a bad engine.
Listen to the creaks of my temple
If you’re quiet, sometimes you can still hear Him.
Sometimes history starts over. Sometimes it’s impossible to escape the metronome, and sometimes you do it to yourself all over again.
And there is no one to blame.
We’ve got no choice but to transform and move, you know.
As hard as that is, once we do it it’s forever.
A grudge from the depths of everything we have ever wanted
Move. Transform. Live.
Cruel to them is self preservation for people like us who were sprouted into November and October like cherry colored leaves.
What do you think?