Cheers: To The End Of MeThere's no more words to be said, no more notes to be sungNothing left to amend, nothing more that can be doneIt seems our time here is through and there's little more we can do.It seems our blood is running thin and we've spent all that we can spend.It appears that emotions have seeped through, wearing my heart on my sleeve for youI guess blades are sharp as swords so for the job they will sufficeNot as much as your words which have sliced as deep as they could slice.I choose to not let you be my end, rather myseld, if that'd be fine?I've decided that as opposed to leaving my mind body and soul as cold as ice.I find it best to take my leave on this nightUntil we meet again fair one who gave me worthPerhaps in perdition in our damnation may we rekindle the joyof such sinful stolen kisses as ours once were
BatWing (1) "Shall I take from your wrist or your neck?" Thistle turned his head in attempts to lock eyes with BatWing. BatWing's eyes were half lidded and his smile was withered. He lay his head back and glanced side ward at Thistle who was using the entirety of his might to keep himself sitting against the wall. "Drink from where you will." BatWing grinned at him, "it matters not to me." "Why is that?" Thistle posed in response, curious. "Because I simply do not mind your close proximity to me, and either way, despite where you find your lips -be it my arms or my neck- it will send the same shivers through me unlike any other." BatWing's worn yet devious joy successfully reflected his careless attitude. It comforted Thistle to be around someone without worries. "Help me then?" Thistle asked as he propped himself from his perch. His arms shook. He tried his best not to fall. The sight was pitiful as the dove-like boy with broken wings leaned in closer. BatWing grabbed him and
Don't Turn AroundIt's funny how far a kind word can get you in this world,perhaps one foot out the door, should you be lucky.But when your luck runs out. 10 more steps back you'll be pushed.You'll trip and fall, perhaps down some stairs.You'll be bruised - that's for sure - maybe bloodied.They'll stare.When all you did was show your smile, they push you down with their words of fire.They hurt you as though it means nothing to them.All you've done was call them a friend.It's funny how far a kind word can go.It can work wonders! It digs your grave, and places you there too!Being kind is the work of a fool.