past eves

Amongst Rotted trees, and sickle leaves
Along the dead and dying grass
Through the decayed scent of past eves
I run thought it fast

And branches hold and grasp me
thorns pervade my dress
but even if I were to break free
Still my life would digress

How do you come to such a place?
What is it that has no face?
How does something flee from life?
Something’s lost, is it strife?

Amongst the rotted trees and sickle leaves
Along the dead any dying grass
Through the decayed scent of past eves
I run through it fast

But for me it is to stay
I simply cannot escape the grey
See, no matter how fast I run
I just feel like life is no more fun

qotd~ "where fallen creatures slothy lain... whilst micheal jordan wears his hanes"