How many times,
How many ways
Must I tell you
Before you stay?
A hundred years from now,
Whether we prolong life
Or continue to die, somehow
I will be where you are.
Led by breathing, my presence, I,
Will find a way to be anywhere–
Where you are.
Brought on by fitting bursts of madness,
His hands shake as he walks, cold
In an otherwise sunny atmosphere.
Eyes, wound like clock, tick his steps
To see where someone with no one around
Goes to be alone.
If you could e-mail me with a few suggestions on just how you made your blog look this excellent, I would be grateful.
@certificate of incorporation
I use SimpleDark by Justice.