November 17th, 02:00 AM

There was somebody who said,

His past voices asked to be written,

I shrugged and wished mine knew such courtesy,

Cause in fact, they wrote themselves on my walls,

Carved them inside the cortex of my brain,

Drowning me in deep sadness and terrible agony,

Dragging me to death,

With silhouette of fulfilled expectations,

Surprisingly mean yet liberating.

This is the answer

Of your dying question

Love presented naked, no filter

For your mind to ease

For your soul to feast

- Bonne's A.M. Drafts -

January 2021