our sun

strike the match and let it go...

our sun does not restrain or contain the fire which it shows.

follow the pace of the pain to find the end game.

it's in the purge that we learn.

tears and blood are just the sacrifice until we're done.

all these things stain me and never leave this memory.

my body flinches at the sight of my hell...my perfectly constructed room of sorrow hanging all over me.

Light that match and let it go because without this fury the sadness will swallow you whole.

Let it go.

Reviews

[Tate Morgan]

There is something very familiar on your writing I cant quite place it.