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In the end not every bleeding thing dies; at least, not like a paper plays in fire.

Odd Ken

I guess we all understand the love language fine; but maybe truth is we’re just too fluent in goodbyes.
ODD KEN

End Goodbye Language Love Myself Truth Understand
And when the cold comes, I swear I can feel her in my bones.
ODD KEN

Bone Cold Feeling Herself Myself Winter
If ever the fall is the ground, someone tell her I’m this close to soil, and I can feel it!
ODD KEN

Fall Feeling Ground Myself
Love is a job doer and a man slayer. Both equally efficient, until the taste of it is most felt on the cold side of the ribs.
ODD KEN

Death Equality Feeling Job Love Man Side Taste
Just as it demands blood, to meet bone, It’ll forever take something painful to understand pain.
ODD KEN

Blood Demand Forever Painful Philosophy Understand Wisdom
I don’t think the world is ever getting better; I guess maybe people just find new ways to hide what kills them.
ODD KEN

Hide Kill Myself People Thinking Way World
Today I can see the cracks on the wall they’re visible; but I can tell they are finding their way to soil, And so am I.
ODD KEN

Myself See Wall
What if love has always been the quench and the fire? or perhaps all we need to lose to find all we need to have?
ODD KEN

Fire Lose Love Need Philosophy
Most days missing her is my only choice between death and dying.
ODD KEN

Choice Death Herself Missing Myself
Perhaps I mistook the pain with work in progress.
ODD KEN

Mistook Myself Pain Progress Work
Like her name, some people are best left scrouged on the skin.
ODD KEN

Herself Name People Skin
The broken worlds we hide inside; that’s how we start to die!
ODD KEN

Break Death Hide Start World
I knew you would leave someday; And from there a poet will be born from the ashes.
ODD KEN

Born Break Up Leaving Myself Poet Yourself
You’re gone. And I think I’m only trying to mean a lot to myself too.
ODD KEN

Break Up Myself Thinking Try
I can sing love; only I’m afraid the lyrics might get shattered again.
ODD KEN

Afraid Love Lyrics Myself Sing
I guess there’s so much in your absence that kills my soul from the burning wood to ash.
ODD KEN

Absence Burn Kill Myself Soul Yourself

In the end not every bleeding thing dies; at least, not like a paper plays in fire.

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In the end not every bleeding thing dies; at least, not like a paper plays in fire.

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Popular Authors

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