Vox Imports


And when its over we wait in the ruins, too tired to start over and too broken to leave it behind. Eyes startle in the dark; Shame stands frail and naked and gods crumble in the night. And truth whispers in your ear now that the songs are done, and when you wake you see the prisons that forever paint your mind.

I am a vein in a pale thin wrist, heavy with foul blood brooding in its frail, narrow confines.
And you a shining blade.

I never asked to be set free. Why did you ever come?





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