Inescapable Death

“I loath the quiet hush of winter, the deafening din of snowflake on leaf. The only other sound to be heard being a lonesome squirrels climb. ’twas here that I buried you; beneath the willow where the wind holds your insipid memory. Buried. Unknown and forgotten to all. Yet my visitations are scheduled and often. I hold no love, only random pieces of my own fate. Bless you, and forever reside in hell.”

ME…

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s