Betrayal, the willful slaughter of hope.
Artful passion will lead us all to the impressionable Abyss of Martyrdom. From that dark chasm, one should hear the groanings of ephemeral lovers; their twisted arms clinging to the earthy walls, fingers entwined and legs in amplexus. Naught that we shouldn't also hear the soft whisper of warning from the water lingering at the bottom of that deep tomb. So, you shall sit in that silence. The trepidation within your heart will help you swallow at night and breathe during the day. You'll be gone by the first morning light.
Artful passion will lead us all to the impressionable Abyss of Martyrdom. From that dark chasm, one should hear the groanings of ephemeral lovers; their twisted arms clinging to the earthy walls, fingers entwined and legs in amplexus. Naught that we shouldn't also hear the soft whisper of warning from the water lingering at the bottom of that deep tomb. So, you shall sit in that silence. The trepidation within your heart will help you swallow at night and breathe during the day. You'll be gone by the first morning light.
