Scars on my hands.
Representation of life I’ve left.
Blood of my eyes ,
And suffer of killing pride.
FAITH
I will take your face.
Grace
WE will strike in any caise.
The phantom of sky
Persuit my mind and body.
I smell the ashe, but
I don’t want to be dust someday.
DO you feel the same?
When the berain is burning like hell?
You’re all alone. Don’t try to ask for help.
Cry—nobody listen
Scream-nobody care what you feel
die--- easy and useless.
Kill—give all you have to hit.
Scars on my hands
© Copyright: Игорь Безликий, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109062004764
Свидетельство о публикации №109062004764
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