Vortex: A Story? or A Poem?
When you just want to talk not much about this modern world. Those were my centuries, too. How could you take them like that? Water them down into all of those heartless brats. Expect to avoid retribution in the line of fire and ire and all that never should have been, and then, run away with the silver spoon, at the end? NOT so much.
Make an angel and a child, look all promiscuous and affected, because your rapist interjected? Such narcissism...rejected. Your soul, a lonely critter for depravity and need, to house themselves, where "bitter" & "bravery" become a good day to die. In your grave you will lie, with your bitches and your lies, to the selves that wished they could fly.
What of a name, just the same, as no other flame, in this world of jealousy and ashes? Whole empires will burn, and hungry greed crashes, for new days dawn, un-spurned. Where poetry and passion, leave battles behind them, and plant new seeds to rise. In the sunlight of her eyes, to her gentle surprise, such memory builds from pain. For my life shall heal them, recovery shall steel them, and future dreams shall remain.