Briana Testo

I am sick. I am nothing but failure on my own. The sun came up in your room the morning you reached out your hand and asked for a penny but I wanted to give you gold and silver. Peace can disintegrate but love can't terminate. I breathe systematic death in fascination. Still alive just incase everything is just a dream. My spirit hangs over the fire that rises and frays away the edges that keep the rain from falling. His hands will keep you from falling.