Moments of the dieing wind
Do you think I'll flee in sins?
A unpredictable fate as one follows another path
What faint noise is brought to us as a latch is pulled
Combusted into small fragments
What to do?
Trying to regain consciousness is pain to another
Words don't matter
No significance to the person in control
Do I care?
I don't know
Leave me alone
It's a flow
With a breeze of Cologne
Is it to late to be logical?
YOU ARE READING
Crimson Omen
PoetryWhen love is inevitably strong. One may act as of nothing is present, though, in the inside it is excruciating sorrow.
