289 – Headstone

We never knew when to stop.

The thrill of wild transgression
Was such a hard addiction
To shake off.

We rose like flaming comets,
Painting the sky
Wild with fire.

We were rebels,
We were heroes,
We were shooting stars,
We were alive.

Yet we forgot the brightest meteors
Always burn out faster.

Do not cry over our ashes
For we are not dead,
But merely sleeping.

We’ll rise
And fly again…

A cycle.

• • •

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