Withers to the touch..
But thirst is escaping...
Draining to the end of time..clutching the strains of her remains.. Even in chains her heart contains the light..In view all you can see is fright. With the whispers of night.
White from death..
Life escapes from this last breath..
kiss of departure with copper taste..
Lost in lust...
What a waste...
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Visions Of Spookielament
Puisidark poetry for the dark hearts. .. if you ever feel like a freak accident you are not alone. I too have those emotional scars and some even physical reminder to never reach that level again..I write for how i feel at the moment. I have pstd. Depr...
