upon your cheeks, the tears flow
with blood like wine
take what's left of this mortal life
it never coexisted with anything
but misery and strife
the shade of kill, a taste of a bruise
instincts adapt to the soul before
they appear,
the crushing weight of homicidal
anxiety and the temper of 1000
dead souls
ready to expire or explode into
a vast network or narcoleptic
suicidal disfunctionong 000
©munch77
D