Canthrodus
rides on a storm
not from wind
out of shame
from horror
so great
it wears no name
you call upon

Roomtime
in a perfect pitch
it moves
to the weeplings cold home
Qastyros
my unfriendly friend
return the favor
to torture a song

Bleak nor pale
colours
that shades a hanged child
surprised
of an already lived life
it is in between
these seconds
two brotherly lovers
comes to caress
my shredded soul