Thursday, 11 April 2013

Stench of Destiny

The meter is running up,
Up like my heart beat before we crash.
Before we collide with our destiny;
Much like how me and you weren't meant to be, but were.
Burn my feet on the heated rocks you threw.
Trying to evade your love raping me;
The smell of it, lingering on my scarred flesh.
Drenched in that God awful stench.
The pong of your love,
What was not our destiny,
But was.

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