pain (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
Recent Comments
Nigel Astell on Synchronicities of life
1 hour ago
Nigel Astell on Happy Hours for the Edgeley Faithful Extended
1 hour ago
Tim Higbee on The Wind Whispers........
1 hour ago
Larisa Rzhepishevska on Celebrate St George's Day
1 hour ago
Tim Higbee on You
2 hours ago
Auracle on Shimmering Light
2 hours ago
Holden Moncrieff on Is it?
3 hours ago
Wordseffectbrew on Piñata Earth
3 hours ago
leon stolgard on Is it?
4 hours ago
leon stolgard on Just You
4 hours ago