Tuesday, September 26, 2017

The Circus Travels Through Hell


A myriad of pages remain safe homes for your sacrilege.

Ink weeps for its own misuse - for baring your name.

Past conversations linger upon shattered airwaves.

And we walk along a frayed tightrope, yet again.

Darling, you were right about an angel kissin' on a sinner -

only our roles were reversed, like always. 

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