Within the empty, lives only contempt.
Upon the jagged shore, stagnating.
Consumed by mold and worn by time.
A blank gaze ever into abyss.
Shaken only by the turbulence of betters.
Circumstance to shambles.
Leave me to rot.
Turn thy beauty lest it sullied by I.
Rid memory thereof.
Else be drug undertow.
A life bred of corruption.
Ceases.
I invite you to give up your life of wallowing and pity. It simply takes a push. One direction or another, but just a push. Trouble is, only you can truly push you.
Good Fortune to You.
About the Creator
Tales from a Madman
.. the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the Prince's indefinite decorum.
The Masque of the Red Death
Edgar Allan Poe
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