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Oct 2018
You held the knife
I held my breathe
And you couldn't do it
For your heart was pure

You my brave huntsman shall be slaughtered for your nobility by the ruler of the dark land in which you live
I dearly regret it
I dearly do

If only there was a way I could save you
But a secret to this story is that I love you
Your hate is your love, your passion is your repent, and your life is your death.
-Thorns
Thorns
Written by
Thorns  21/F
(21/F)   
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