I am not trying to come across as a thread abuser, I am simply very emotional at this time of life and have a lot to share and say creatively. This describes me.
In the cold and dark there is a light. It burns of a melt . Passion urges, who flickers to flicker.
Who breathes swades in the dark. Of a melt here are many colors, all blend to a dark . The warmth melts dreams upon dreams into the presence. The passion flickers, the melt inflictioned. Infliction upon infliction, passionate and warm , cold is to effective. To grow as to melt.
To take new form and redefine. Character.
Breezes challenge, warmth burns ! Mostly melted and without any flow, hardened and stuck onto a place. As tears that stick around, emotions that the heart sings, a sad song has been sung and in mounds of hard melted away passion, a deep hard feeling in the softest of places, there is a song in heart that is being sung there are no lyrics and no one to sing along with.
All that is left is to scrape away. A clear defined image of shape and end. No one keeps the harden melt, sometimes it is re-melted into a liquid form , free to move and feel ,and to touch, it is redefined often it is already defined, and left as is, as to be, hard and already melted.
Like a prison it sits as a reminder of all that burns and dies.
In the cold and dark there is a light. It burns of a melt . Passion urges, who flickers to flicker.
Who breathes swades in the dark. Of a melt here are many colors, all blend to a dark . The warmth melts dreams upon dreams into the presence. The passion flickers, the melt inflictioned. Infliction upon infliction, passionate and warm , cold is to effective. To grow as to melt.
To take new form and redefine. Character.
Breezes challenge, warmth burns ! Mostly melted and without any flow, hardened and stuck onto a place. As tears that stick around, emotions that the heart sings, a sad song has been sung and in mounds of hard melted away passion, a deep hard feeling in the softest of places, there is a song in heart that is being sung there are no lyrics and no one to sing along with.
All that is left is to scrape away. A clear defined image of shape and end. No one keeps the harden melt, sometimes it is re-melted into a liquid form , free to move and feel ,and to touch, it is redefined often it is already defined, and left as is, as to be, hard and already melted.
Like a prison it sits as a reminder of all that burns and dies.