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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It's a very difficult challenge to try to understand oneself and one's own mind. It's a difficult thing to do because you questi...
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Recovered skulls of the victims of the 1994 Rwandan Genocide in a display case in the Kigali Genocide Memorial. Photo: Arlana Shikongo Immig... -
...and here we are folks, calmly entering the final and most exciting month of the year. There has always been something about December. B...
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