W i t h o u t · A · S h a r p e r · K n i f e

Honesty sold-out at face value, the price you pay for distance

The depth of your wounds can’t be measured by the doctors in the ambulance

Complicate my rising lungs and grip my falling chestnut hair

Sleep in, I won’t keep bleeding out dreams if I know you’re always right there

This battle is yours to expiate, with every star there is to count

As multitudinous as the silver glistening in your face, an ebony ink tantamount

You’re regressing back to the rejected days of golden senescence

I wouldn’t let go of the only part of my life that makes any semblance of a sense.

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