depression (Remove filter)
Grim
The flower grew within, the fumes were fornicated. Bastards grew on paper, spilt ink spread their legs to the core of chaos. Thus the evil brewed bombs. You don’t see a shadow in the dark docile day. Only when it burns you can see your damned skin and the fire. The shadow of a truth turning grey, sat beside by the yellow day!
PC: Unknown
Sunday 1st April 2018 6:29 pm
The steps of losing your mind
You stare.
Thinking isn’t your game, anymore.
Wait for the next reflex to barge in.
Stare.
PC: unknown.
Sunday 1st April 2018 6:21 pm
Clink
Piercing poles of what shattered in abruptness
Has a bit of touch to it.
Strange things with glasses, I tell you.
Sunday 1st April 2018 6:15 pm
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