Pellinore's boring writings

It is now that i realise,
the futility of life,
it is a duality of rise and fall,
as we explore life with innosence,
soon the corruption,
fills our memories,
with burning flashes of blooded scenes.
soon, we detoriate,
as the dying flower,
that bloomed under the proud sun,
then dies, forgotten, covered in snow,
a blanket of death.
I have seen my rise,
my dreams,
the sun dissapeared.
In this world,
nothing remains,
but waiting for the one moment,
the cycle begins again,
waiting under white snow,
as my limbs grow cold,
and everything fades,
when death welcomes me,
in its warm embrace.

 

I'm quite fond of this one

some very nice work overall - I'd say you have a knack for it

 

hows belgium?