I will not arid my heart.
Like a stretched cloth, under a blistering sun
Hangers in out-lets, yard is painted red
By the blood of assassinated.
The dagger stabbed in the log, stabbed in the heart too.
Apr 18, 2025
Apr 18, 2025 at 4:28 AM UTC
I will not arid my heart.
Like a stretched cloth, under a blistering sun
Hangers in out-lets, yard is painted red
By the blood of assassinated.
The dagger stabbed in the log, stabbed in the heart too.
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