The purr of the mountain lion within my soul causes screams throughout the meadows of my life.
Children scatter.The life of love is lost
and times don't matter only the broken chips.
that life itself has ran away into the hollows of your soul
and found a way to rip your heart apart
it does not matter
because it has no effect on your rotten tomato of a heart.
It is no joke of which i speak
of your heart and its disgusting
smell, look, taste.
I lay upon the roses
and let the thorns peirce my back
causing cries of pain
as the red blood slowly creates an organic shape around y body
and my sounds become slower and lighter
and then they fade away
into the deep hollows of your soul
and the darkness stares at your shredded heart
and I slowly die with the arms
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