twist this knife no more.
pull it out and let me bleed
though my tears run in crimson rivulets
soaking all that I hold dear,
no matter how much my life runs out
in scarlet threads of memories,
I will not die.
even if the worst nights are to come
and I walk on the water of my own tears
shattered memories and a broken life
still i will hope
that morning will come, for
No night can be eternal.
shadows cannot hold their poses forever
for hope waits underneath their darkened edges
and the light is ever vigilant.
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--
If dreams are like movies...
Then memories are films about ghosts.
~Kindred~
--filibustered
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