A desert of sadness, vast full of greif, grains of sand dry,painful and hot they reflect the sun they radiate the heat they make it impossible to reach the stream. Visions fill your head, tricks of the desert sand, aching th go back to a simpler time, hurting, you may wounder at this, or you may feel hopless, WHY BOTHER? you are alone, always alone the stream isn't as desirable any more wanting to give up, to surrender to death, to surrender to the poisonous blood, to surrender. Death is your enemy, and your tierd of fighting. And the stream flows on.
Reason for writing:
I wrote this when my grandfather was at my house.
His wife has reacently passed on and he has
lost intrest in things that he used to enjoy.
It his pain that he cant admitt to having.
Birth sign: Not entered
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