You suffocate me with your sweet lies
They hope that every honey suckle word that drips from your lips is truth
Buying into the soft grave that has been dug out for them
Instead, it feeds into their naivete
Relishing the feel of it gliding over its skin
The fountain of perpetual sludge and despair coats its tongue
All things come to an end
What once was sweet has a shelf life
The clock is ticking








Tick tock
Great write Fia.
😄 thank you Peter
Powerfully penned, Fia. Always dig your musings my friend. This one gives me a sense of Deja Vu. lol. Appreciate you.
Damian
Thank you, Damian;))
The clock is always ticking. Never stops at all, until were dead. Great write!!
You are right, Keith. Thank you