(no subject)
What does not love,
only dies.
In the heart of its God.
Within the pupil of the masses.
The ever beating muscle has found no purpose.
No color left to give life to life.
No pulses to be heard by a lover's ear,
upon the core of existence.
No rhythmic bedtime song for the life within.
Nothing to race when there is danger.
Nothing to flutter when one is close.
A manifestation of desolate.
The exhibit robbed of a precious jewel,
Shattered amongst the liquid love it didn't know.
only dies.
In the heart of its God.
Within the pupil of the masses.
The ever beating muscle has found no purpose.
No color left to give life to life.
No pulses to be heard by a lover's ear,
upon the core of existence.
No rhythmic bedtime song for the life within.
Nothing to race when there is danger.
Nothing to flutter when one is close.
A manifestation of desolate.
The exhibit robbed of a precious jewel,
Shattered amongst the liquid love it didn't know.