“It is the monster who hides his wounds, in the dark. It is the monster who had others attempt to slay him, and further he is pushed into the dark. The same monster had once loved, though fought for too much that now he finds warmer shelter in the dark. Rather than in a pair of arms, consolation is found where the wounds are hidden. A howl to the moon. A cry during the night. His wounds are never kissed, as his cries are never hushed. This pain is hidden, because the cure is never sought. The cure is never sought, because the monster lies to himself in the reflection to his own blood pools. He sees new familiarity in everything now changed, to not return back to former days.”
– Modern Romanticism
This is one of my favorite pieces of yours, so beautiful and thoughtful.
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Thanks! 🙂
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