The earth was meant to hold your hand

 
 
 
 
When I lay there. When I lay wrapped in the arms of the world, facing the memories of my life. When I lay there.
 
Afloat by the love. The love which could sustain a life, like the flowers who mysteriously crawl up from the frosted ground. Budding in the love transformed sun. But I'm still drowned in the flooded river. Overwhelmed by the memories that will not last. 
 
The memories which buds in front of your bloodstained face. The memories which are barbarian torn up from mother earth. The earth that was meant to hold your hand.
 
When I lay there I can't decide whether to face the surface for air or lay down on the bipolar ground and decease.
 
 

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