By A
Maniac
Gulping a pollen nor sniffing a poison,
Losing the warmth to chase Llorona's sore,
Voices alarming along with wishpers,
To burn the soul in the cremain's bowl
Intruder
He qent to my place,
Told me to make it together,
And slowly he tore down my walls,
Till I couldn't call myself a "home".
Commentaires