Deeper than thoughts of those who live this dying planet crumbling from ameration inside
The core to the appel that's a rotting fruit of thought of those who love
Starting a being of life brought apon the brightess place reflecting to the deepest depth of a darkend thought the old slowy turning to a dying apple tree that once lived fully ripe
bad apples grow we die despite of there being left from misery they have sewn like a stiched up wound into a broken mirror from a girl who once had bueaty now a decrepit old witch now lieing on the ground taking the souls of children broken inside like a shattered hour glass smashed by the deepest thoughts of those around turning the ones of a persons personalitys against there pears causing it's axis to rerotate backwords like global warming inside a captive domb that has a entrance of no way of ecsapeing
the ones that are left are traped under the rule of those who are the broken ones only hearing the chime of braking alchol glasses leveing stains of pain left in the rain of acid from them who they thought loved
There broken heart bleeding bye the shatteret of the unloved of a broken hour glass that can't be held by the angels above
truth be told I'm a damaged thought of agony
from this world of despair but yet so fast its slow turning to a reflection of a appel tree from the broken mirror left in a place that once was bright now turning to a dim sorrowful fruit of a rotten vegtabel burning from inside out from thoughts of acid leaving scares in the past from there loved ones piece of a shattered soul like a shard of glass from a broken being of the past
