They have reached the apex of desire, wherein the bourgeoisie all do conspire; we have reached the foundation of lies, wherein the reciprocals induce our demise; so now lift your sullied, falling head, lest you succumb to the demons under the bed; as within our tumbling vortex of glory, lies many more vast the bewitching story. In the prying eyes of all things we love, in the end we will return to the skies above; but hush, as whilst the greedy king comes near, we are now crumbling under the serpent's sneer; — to heaven our hearts wish to go, but how will we attain it with all this woe?
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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...
