a bard of entropy.
Love is a language which died upon my lips;
I may never attempt to speak again
for fear of finding further evidence
that my tongue wasn’t meant for it.
I remember so few words
despite years at study.
My words were honest as the moon;
My actions betrayed the dark side.
My truths came from frozen moments;
My nature is to melt and move on.
My apologies always came from the heart,
Which I gave to you and forgot.
Hours dedicated to self deprecation,
depriving Soul of sustenance;
this activity is a suitable distraction
from more destructive habits.