Black Snow
A man's mood is like the wind on your face, the flicker of a dying candle fighting to stay alight, the last glow of the embers of a wild fire.
Man's anger is fickle, a whisper can stoke it to dire tongues of flames whilst a fiends bellows can extinguish the deadliest of roaring fires.
Man's envy is the seas reach. It can get to staggering proportions, swallowing swarthes of land in tsunamis yet on a blue cloudless sunny day you'd dare swim with sharks.
Man's jealousy is a festering wound. Untreatable with renown potions or sorcery it grows. Seeking out doctors of repute to the reaches and far ends of the earth a futility. Only immediate revenge can quench such a thirst.
Happiness, smiles, the sun on your skin, the sweet melodies of birds renting the air... can just as easily instantly evolve into mold, the stench of hate, envy, death shrouding you in its black heavy cloak.
A man's moods are like seasons, day and night, sunset and sunrise, north and south, sunlight and darkness, at a constant battle for supremacy every minute and second of every day.
Man's anger is fickle, a whisper can stoke it to dire tongues of flames whilst a fiends bellows can extinguish the deadliest of roaring fires.
Man's envy is the seas reach. It can get to staggering proportions, swallowing swarthes of land in tsunamis yet on a blue cloudless sunny day you'd dare swim with sharks.
Man's jealousy is a festering wound. Untreatable with renown potions or sorcery it grows. Seeking out doctors of repute to the reaches and far ends of the earth a futility. Only immediate revenge can quench such a thirst.
Happiness, smiles, the sun on your skin, the sweet melodies of birds renting the air... can just as easily instantly evolve into mold, the stench of hate, envy, death shrouding you in its black heavy cloak.
A man's moods are like seasons, day and night, sunset and sunrise, north and south, sunlight and darkness, at a constant battle for supremacy every minute and second of every day.
Comments
Post a Comment