The Fault

To lie in vain to rest in a bed beautified by flowers, was not at ease nor peace. As the frequent flowering to a hearts grave was of the bride married to its death. She who made my love selfish to cage a heart in its chest, and love only by flesh to cherish to perish love's delights. BITTER SWEET Now it art in deep soils of the grave. Only water was at need, And the mother earth breast fed all its need and craves. Breaking the water, due was a heart moving in a heart called a home. UNBROKEN IN VULNERABILITY