Revenge: it's a dream of flames fueled by scorched remains that are lit to a torch and brought back upon the one who burned you.
My mood depends on the girl whom I love, but she is like a wildest hurricane, drifting shore to shore.
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My mood depends on the girl whom I love, but she is like a wildest hurricane, drifting shore to shore.
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Shirts and jeans litter the asphalt, the empty fabric limbs askew as if they're attempting to escape. Blood smears Sarah's lips as she struggles against the chest of a dirty looking man with a beard. Terror. Terror is the only word my mind can seize on and it forgets what it means. I forget how to think - to move.
It is enough to know, too much to see