(no subject)
in theory, the softness of a sunset is revenged by the fury of morning's rise.
here, all flowers are battered with prideful stares upward.
here, the earthen greens brown and wither with contempt.
in theory, sunsets are romance and the morning is regret.
here, all flowers are battered with prideful stares upward.
here, the earthen greens brown and wither with contempt.
in theory, sunsets are romance and the morning is regret.