Find your tribe in a Sea of Creativity
Frozen tears
on the windows
obfuscate the
Stone sculptures of pain
in the garden
of withered roses
Dreadful nightmares
haunt the
dilapidated rooms
Withered Flowers on your grave
Maybe it's time for me
to go on and let you go.
Maybe I'm just to blind,
maybe I don't want to know.
In the depths of my heart,
the crypt of my soul,
I try to keep you alive
but you're dead like a zombie.