Mourning the death of the night.
There is something sweet about watching the last rays of the sun disappear with the light.
What is dead, does not die...
Impossible to resurrect something that never had a chance at life...
What is dead, does not die.
Mourning the stars that no longer shine in the sky.
They have disappeared into the clouds,
Forever missing their spark.
What is dead, does not die.
Mourning the loss of a withered flower,
That blossomed too quickly, and left without a goodbye.
What is dead, cannot die.
Without a beating heart,
It was never there, it was never alive.
8:16 p.m. - 2022-05-28
Recent entries:
Riddle - 2023-07-10
%%older_entries%%I'm Fucking Done! - 2022-11-02
%%older_entries%%This is Us - 2022-10-22
%%older_entries%%The Reasons Why... - 2022-08-27
%%older_entries%%A Letter to You - 2022-06-10
%%older_entries%%
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