7 minutes ago
Oh crumbling dustchild from the ever fading light,
How much did you drink to delude yourself?
The bitter poison that lingers on your lips from each tiny drop - a wish to feed your words into the ears of others, a little hope that they will be touched by everything you say. Unfortunately not, oh soul of cowardice. For from your mouth springs that of unsung songs, the songs that mortals close their ears to. Words that they do not wish to hear from you but from the throats of the more attractive that surround you.
Supposedly stolen words that you swiped from your heart - if you handed them to that of other beings, they would grab it from your very palms and exploit every last part of its mangled and broken existence.
A mangled and shattered being left to crumble as the wind blows. A weak pile of ashes: the remains of what you once were as a person, now reduced to that of pathetic crumbs of the earth.
Oh dying dustchild from the ever fading light,