Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Unsheathed feelings end my grace,
Whispers silence the herald of peace.
Death comes slowly from an unnamed blade,
pierced through the heart of a dying glade.

The final leaf shall descends ablaze,
in wilt, in chaos, in fiery craze.
End begins its forthcoming reign,
to dust, to nothing, to void it wanes.

-It Ends.

a leaf fell on 8:28 pm

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My Engravings