Dusk of the Blue Moon

Broken, bloody and left drowning in the depths of unyielding depression.

Alone, unloved, and aware of what will never happen.

Heart encased tightly in a coffin of ice, never knowing the warmth of true love.

All pretend, nothing but make-believe; lies until the bitter end.

Wondering why, questioning the satisfaction.  The perverse pleasure recieved by the mind fuck games.

Desperation, infatuation, ridicule and elation.  All go before thee like fireflies dancing in the fading light.

Before the final silent cry, one last scream perpetuates the stillness of this evil, useless life.


All Rights Reserved. Gina Kincade 2011