This place is corrupted by the tongues of the doomed. The flowers that blossom are brittle and gloomed. This is the era in which our hearts have been crying. And the era in which our minds are slowly dying. Now we are succumbing to this thing they call society. We are falling into this pit that cries for insanity. And there is none trying to lift their trembling fist. And there is none wishing to combat this bloodied mist. So now watch as we are blighted by this chaotic hell. Watch even as our lovers say farewell.
YOU ARE READING
poesy of doom
Poetry❝ why is nurturing sorrow like sprouting a tree, why are we not the humanitarians that we would like to be? ❞ ━ my book of poesy that drips of the warmth of saturn; the wrath of hades. do not read if you are not prepared to embrace this cryptical gl...
