Behind the walls sits a man.
The decay is reaching his brain.
Rotting away,
Wasting away
But he is now the wall.
And needs nothing else.
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Reddose's: Poetry
RandomHi it's reddose with some discarded poetry. Edgy? Probably.
2 - Untitled
Behind the walls sits a man.
The decay is reaching his brain.
Rotting away,
Wasting away
But he is now the wall.
And needs nothing else.
