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Lockbox.

Decay on display
his soul flayed and spread;
the touring is free
all wrapped in dread;
like the sweet smell of sickness
miasma born in his head;
and some claim he makes art
in truth he only praise the dead;
thus torn names his part
and lust feeds his bread;
a hollowed scorn
hath him praying for lead.




Bunden vers (Rim) av Kieran
Läst 270 gånger och applåderad av 1 personer
Publicerad 2015-07-31 17:09



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