Monday, July 20, 2009

I want you to help me. Finish it...



Our bodies are prisons for our souls. Our skin and blood, the iron bars of confinement. But fear not. 
All flesh decays. Death turns all to ash. And thus, death frees every soul. 


All these years, all these memories, there was you. 
You pull me through time. 

1 comment:

  1. This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

    ReplyDelete