My Book Sings

17 0 1
                                    

Music of the night, they sing along as I constantly fly through these pages, each page raises the volume, I've been reading way to fast, shall we be on the same past. Blood, stains the sides of my pages, reading my adversaries life on the pitch these vocalists chant in harmony. I smell their fears in every symphony that comes after chapters when they reach the chorus. They lust my defeat, like unfinished stanzas followed by A capellas written without any rhythm. My accent glorifies every cover that shelters my books.

Love Beyond TreesWhere stories live. Discover now