The pilgrims match
Across the frontier,
Curseth is thou that mystifies the purpose of the Majesties,
Slain by the bloodthirstiness edges of his will,
His insinuation shall damp and trump him in his own thoughts,
And his path and entity shall cease,
Woe unto thine waywardly and crookedly ways,
The abyss, shall be casted upon thee,
In depths where foul and rants, the order,
Words eternalized.
YOU ARE READING
THE BOY ON THE BRIDGE.
PoetryThe weakest ink harbors the strongest minds. A collection of thoughts that will blow your mind. Some emotions laced herein are quirky, any similarity to real characters is just a mere coincidence*
