Impotent is he to filter the danger from the joy she
provides his comfort. Yet she will not earmark even a sliver of the cognition
to understand the difference. Her scent forever burned into the cryptic
tumblers of his heart. But her mocking betrayal weighs heavy upon his soul,
leaving it bland, dry, and awant for acceptance.
Her cruelty
will not encumber his stand atop the hill of passion, nor can she use her tyrannical
sway to stifle his freedom to flee his brutal situation. So with renewed
strength he can lay low the ramparts which she has held secure, and make weak her
power to capture the whispers of mirth. His once weak limbs now bastioned with
the impassioned flood of courage.
He will
however not taste the way she bleeds, for his mightiness extends beyond the
ghosts in his head. He knows that life can be and imperfection confessed which
atones prior sinful deeds. He considers that only desire lies deep within her
cold heart of fame so he departs on impudent gossamer wings to become the thief
of newly spoken dreams.
-Johnny V.
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