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Free Yon
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Of No Trace
Tempted slowly dragged in*
Never there at all. it satisfies.
No trace until there is.
I run until I burn. set up, set on fire.
Speed this process
Open up and pour out
Until torture, tolerable, we say to this 'no point',
As if I feel something.
When the time comes, i will welcome the ice,
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Or the flame,
Catch me crashing
Into myself again
Ehat's this urge encountered to create?
To which there is no point.
Maybe,
It's time
To throw in the towel
Struggle
Abandoned
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