The dust of ancient page
Are the ones who cannot bare
The bloody carpets stains, knowing someone was once there
Lonely and humble as moths eat their hair
The cries of a dead child
Haunts the rooms’ of England’s finest lounge
Many would say ‘it’s abandoned because no one would pray’
But the Great Lord of it all has nothing to say
He just walks away in shame
From the house that had no name
Curled away in his fantasy where he wouldn’t have to obey.
YOU ARE READING
Collection of my poems ☆☽
شِعرA collection of poems I've written over the years. Genre is mostly unique horror. Hope you enjoy them!
