Administered by:
the need for better death
sometimes the comfort of death is like a blanket
as soft as the murmur from a doves’ heart.
Sometimes agonizing
before self is absent
and the darkness erases every single scar
the need for better death
sometimes the comfort of death is like a blanket
as soft as the murmur from a doves’ heart.
Sometimes agonizing
before self is absent
and the darkness erases every single scar