Optatus
Tell me you don’t want this;
These hands that burn everything they touch
These eyes that have seen too much yet somehow, still not enough
Tell me we weren’t made for this
I was born screaming
You, a forest fire
Tell me I wouldn’t die for you
I would sacrifice myself
A hundred times over, a hundred times again
Tell me –
But oh, you can’t
Copyright © October Mist | Year Posted 2016
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