That life would come and help us carry on.
What friend am I to life? What friend am I indeed?
That I could craft or I could kill, and still wash my hands so clean.
They told me once that bloodstains stain,
Yet somehow you seem so pure again.
-
- asklepiades (
asklepiades) wrote,
asklepiades
asklepiades
That life would come and help us carry on.
What friend am I to life? What friend am I indeed?
That I could craft or I could kill, and still wash my hands so clean.
They told me once that bloodstains stain,
Yet somehow you seem so pure again.
-
(no subject)
I was wrong.
-
(no subject)
Everytime someone died. color and breath, the fast unfurl of carbon away from death plants that rise and grow, strange citybomb beneath…
-
(no subject)
Bloomed in the fall, I loved you in the winter. When summer came the world was dead and cold.
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