User:Danidelion

a person. That lives. And is a person.

On my knees, begging for inspiration. Still as stone, waiting for annihilation. I feel so old and yet so very far from wisdom, my bones are cold, I couldn't tell you where the sudden chill came from. I'm comfortable but aching, my blood is boiling and my hands are shaking. And I sit silent, feeling the world and all its beauty and fire. We're blowing kisses to the wind as we expire. And i'm just observing, looking for something to put to pen, only watching so that I can release again the flow of words from my fingertips, the world in ink, the way reality tips slightly sideways from my point of view.

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