Blessed be that her burdon is not my own.
Think of the heartache and sorrow sprung from chasing that golden apple.
Deliciously fresh and pure perfection on the outside...
And rotten to the blackened core on the inside.
I coveted the fruit for too long not knowing the truth.
That cowardice is a disease that consumes from the inside out.
Before you know it you are dead to the world,
Save for the effort they take to spit on your grave.
The only wretched people that remember the faint-hearted,
are the ones who suffered the most from their misgivings.
And they will curse him...
For the man he never was.















Comments
Its a hard punch in the gut.
And he deserves it.
--
Nothing is fool proof to a sufficiently talented fool.
I really admire your talent.
I wish I could write like this.
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