Melancholy 2b

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by its_minimi

by its_minimi

                                        
                                                  When harmonies turn into a class of glasses 
Pieces scattered all over blood spilling in all corners 
Flow of steroids in the system 
Silencing the back door 
Opening a tunnel of fire 
Fire burning through the skin 
Rubbing through the veins 
Setting eyes on a darkened atmosphere 
Smoky wind breezing over 
Fountains of past memories 
Capturing themselves into reality 
Remembering them like it was happening
Falling into a deep hole 
Isolated from the true functions 
                              Stuck in a glimpse of hell