It always comes back to this, doesn’t it?
The night falls dark.
You let down your gaurd
For wings were made for angels and all you had was your ground.
The sharpened memory crawls back cutting edges all around,
The flip seconds from "if only I did that" to "and that happened"
The undying moments of you dyeing into black and blue.
And the rest that you never wanted to live through.
No one remembers, but you do.
You hear them;their chaos,their rage
Their Face with unwovened tales
Even in silence.Even with grace
Through their living cage!
The night falls dark,repeats itself.
You, wide awake.
How to put out a fire
That lives through rain?