Lovely young rose danced upon this garden,
A touch from these mens made her grow her thorns,
The whispers from the shadows cursed her soul,
Poor lovely rose was falling its petals,
The deciever cut her from the stem,
Sad lovely rose was wilting to death,
Gone forever but her roots still grow for revenge.
VOCÊ ESTÁ LENDO
Memories
DiversosThis is all my own poem, this is all my own thoughts, my words thats unspoken, disgusting mistakes were made, forgive us, the damned and the forgotten. why did I named it memories? because it all happened to me. Yes, all the adventures I had, they h...
