the aroma of pine
and the young morning's fresh rain
reach my words
the aroma of pine
in a place long left behind
shadows of what was
and the young morning's fresh rain
cries the tears that I cannot
heart frozen inside
reach my words
but understand not a one
no-one can know me
~Pirate & Cie~
Notes:
The "sleigh" of this Troiku was written by Hamish "Managua" Gunn, aka Pirate. The three (utterly fucking depressing) Horses of the Apocalypse are my creations. Read them and despair.
I am in rather a bleak mood today. Please, no comments suggesting therapists, drugs, or any of that sort of thing. That shit doesn't work for me. I just have to work my own way out of it.
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