The perilous ticking of clocks, the chime of bells and whistle of birds, I wait.
The gift of interest, nobody to mock to the hells or to even hate.
I can't care if I die tommrow anymore, my mind being corrupted by the void of space, making me feel, bit by bit, that I am a small fit, no matter what it will always be too late.
I enjoy my peace, holding it close, and trying more and more to live each day so that my impact on this tiny life grows, if nothing else than by minimal connection, holding this tiny fate.
I can only feel the the tiny ringing, knife and death, life and breath, but life only affects me, such small death does not stir me, and I always feel that I have nothing left for the dead, but one gate, and that's left for me.
- Title: something
- Artist: skywerwolf
- Description: Just had to write something
- Date: 02/28/2012
- Tags: bored