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The ink drips down the canvas,
From a mind lost in nothingness,
As the melancholic symphonies synchronise,
With the old fables of the past.
The eyes yearn for salvation,
From the futile words and alphabets,
As the screams of the hopelessness ring,
Past the caverns of the inevitable truth.
The insanity resurfaces,
And the darkness goes blank,
One with no stars to dream,
And no dreams to follow.
And the DARK HOURS commence...
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Dark Hours || Graphic Shop
Random00:00, the clock strikes, and the dark hours commence... OPEN [✓] ON HOLD [] CLOSED [] version 3.0 @Copyrights reserved
