Fickle,
Like a flame
I die
With the wind.
Reborn again,
Against your skin.
Fainter,
Fading,
Struggling
To get in –
Leave a mark,
A memory
That won’t fade,
An imprint
On your brain,
A stubborn stain,
A cut –
Deep enough
To remain.
The Present
was never enough
But my future
was always bleak.
And you were always
Going to leave
Me with the wolves,
The demons I made,
The darkness in my brain.
The grave
I dug for myself.
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