Grenades Pull the pin out, dont let go. No regrets the effect is permanent and the purpose is fleeting, seeping sorrows sweetly kiss him on the forehead and hand him his aftermath. In his right hand is the device and he cant stand that hes not the man who would throw it with reckless abandon, drifting sands of tangible emotions airborne from grenade explosions, exposing quick glimpses of how he really feels Gripping cold steel, left hand shaking earthquaking tremors of anger and wrath, wakes of destruction in his path, and he somehow feels at home. He is fire and the world is a short fuse, concludes that he will resume to consume everything before him to cope with the dying branches of a hope tree planted in his heart. He dies today, to the fear in his right, to the rage in his left. Releasing one means absorbing the other, smothered remains bleeding of misplaced emotions littered over the landscape, limitations disguised as an escape that cant be explained. And tomorrow is the same. Daily we choose which grenades to throw out and which ones to fall on, and the fall out is just as deadly as the decision.
Posted on: Fri, 02 Jan 2015 21:40:32 +0000
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