Poems from Creative_Hurricane
Drip... Drip... Drip...
All I could see is the souls of those roses in his hands.
So much blood,
the agony of it all...
The malignant...
Drip...Drip... Drip...
All I could see is the soulsof the roses in his hands.
So much blood,
The agony of it all...
The malignant aura...