Born Alone In A Dying World.

The redness on the sky, The dust blown by the wind, So strong yet ironically gentle on my skin, Not my eyes. It shuts them close like in a dream, I fall deep into it’s slumber, Never to wake up again, Wishing to be unborn, But this cannot happen! Why me? From the East— corrosiveContinue reading “Born Alone In A Dying World.”