Corpse to the Shrine,
I shut myself off.
Turning the dial,
Wishing for the winter wonderland.
Music kept playing.,
Pouring in the streets,
I asked a question, playing on repeat.
Feigning at worst,
Dosing at finest
Which path shall I take.
Life still fleeting, stuck in transition
The burglars of tomorrow are out,
Sweet melodies changing.
Asking opinions,
Like he can still hear me
Bloody and rotten.
A corpse to the shrine,
Bringing back flashbacks.,
To a miraculous ride.
CITEȘTI
Abendrot
PoezieForever is a word beyond reality, And only exists in imagination. In fiction, Every character,Every Part and Every story is different. But,the endings are always the same. One way or another, People always forget... Truth is stranger than fiction. A...
