All beautiful things end up dead
As the winds blow throw the golden canaries wings,
Its shot down and slain by the devilish king
Or
As the golden grains of sand sink through the gaps of your fingers
Their running and whimpering, death's white star'd shaped figures are going for them
Or
As the golden necklace brightens your beautiful eyes but riots your smile
All beautiful things end up dead
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Comments1
The concept of this poem is so cool. I don't really think it's a matter of whether we agree with you, or whether or not you truly believe it yourself; it reminds me of a crying out, and I really appreciate that.
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