I sit in this cell I have made.
Counting the grass on the glades
The drops of blood Shed
Fall silent closed dead
Tears no more are they free
For all Pain has cost me
All that my temper steals
All that depression peels
All I have ever know
Now striped down to the bone
All there is now is a Shell
one left to rot in it's hell.
The hell I myself have made
The life I myself have forbade
All there is left is to wait.
This Cell This prison This crate.
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poetry
i always keep my writing and lyrics to myself now that i have the ability to copyright i figured its good to share with other and spread the creativity
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Resounding_Darkness
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