My fate is shogun of this religion
Her blood is dried and ink flows in my aesthetic creases
Youth's yawl is heard in my sanctum
Leave the seven stages in Shakespeare's drudgery.
My blood is my origin's.
The womb had cursed amnotic fluid.
The treacherous ocean hid under the layers of flowers and ambrosia
Samurai kept whacking the nation's shibboleth.
The devil fell for the seabird of Busan.
I detonated my renascence to the dusk
His soul stained my tongue.
I was a detractor for his passion.
This is only a tender voice of sedition
For the orange flowers
Permeat the cyclone of perorations.
I am delinquent to destroy distractions.
This is a resurrection, beloved.
I will join each feather with human tapes.
You can call me a monster.
I am not the prey.
RISE. DAUNT. LEAVE.
Reserve your tears, lady.
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P/N : I am grateful for absolutely no support. I didn't know I was that boring . **it's okay** I am not very disappointed.
Bye ...
