Tired

I'm tired of fighting for comfort Death holds the grey seal leading to the cold derailed steel where no man has spoken of any return no scolding or lying, nothing to abort only the alter egos of those despicable interns. I'm sick of screaming for the love that has tunneled through your heart the one that so recently tore through like a dart; through thick and thin I've squealed yet to you, I'm only a rocky cove one where not even a seven sealed lady can yield. So what better than a hole through your warm tender chicken breast heart; or a concealed agony lying deeep down my institution for what else was there to have where no wave could crash. no cove could hold those soul crying trees, no storm could erase those skies so blue, no sleep could convince the actors to play their respective parts, no slime bent luxurious kisses could tame the treason! For you and I were meant to be like sun and the moon, a trace of ink no mortal or deity could ever slash! So I repeat, although obsolete must we go on, tangled in a darkness more treacherous than Sauron's breath; Must we let go, triangle of madness, visions of a prophecy tendered by death! Bestowed upon an ending where faith shall scold the one who feasts upon tho