Thursday, February 9, 2017

The weaver

The weaver of my dreams,
It is you who have trampled on all that had been precious.
The dreams that had once been sweet,
Are nothing but crumbling dust now.
To whom, does your heart belong?
One can no longer tell.
The shadows you cast,
The fabric of lies you weave.
Into a hopeless pool,
I fell,
Deeper and deeper
Till the point of no return.
Weaver of my dreams,
My weaver,
My reaper.

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