Ved Buens Ende Remembrance Of Things Past
This sweetness that surrounded us, and bled with us...
We touched it, and it smelt far worse than weeds...
I have touched winds...
I have touched sorrows...
(I touched the devil once...)
... And I have touched the past...
It was like the love of thorns, like the beauty of dead summer
But I, the lurker, the carrier of wounds outlived
It
I have left now. (Have I not?)
The thorns embraced us
While resemblance dragged us further down
It burried our minds
None shall outlive this rhyme...
