Hidden realms within my soul possess the untold scrolls of a man wearing all black clothes, his heart's a lump of coal.
whenever awakened unleashes a true demon in the making; a man with no patience , brought to kill by my imagination. I'm saying.
Right now he's sitting and listening to what I'm spitting,
His killings leave razors dripping with the blood of his victims, fulfilling a family tradition. Visions of madness, you see... I try to forget about him but all it brings is sadness. Whenever things happen all I remember is flashes as if my mind was going through some kind of traumatic rashes, hoping one day that his aura collapses. Although it may be my fate, the way he lashes out with hate and his name is based upon his rage. just thinking about him gives me the shakes. He is the last of his race and the only person in this world that wears my face. I pray for the day someone can just take him away and erase all the bad memories he stained on my brain, till this day. Yet then again his grave is my grave, so what more can be said till death do us part, it's always me against my rage.
Merci pour la lecture!
Nous pouvons garder Inkspired gratuitement en affichant des annonces à nos visiteurs. S’il vous plaît, soutenez-nous en ajoutant ou en désactivant AdBlocker.
Après l’avoir fait, veuillez recharger le site Web pour continuer à utiliser Inkspired normalement.