How many angels have I shed to make way for the demons in my head?
How many bodies have I eaten and abused in my bed as I look for the lost love in my sheets that only shows when its red.
A poem of love and death, a tale of lust and hate, this is a crime of passion led astray.
Skin like a doves breath, a voice of trust and filled with hope and fate, one day the beauty and art of you will help me find my way.
Even if it means our death is to be the outcome of a beautifully painful day.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
How many angels have I shed to make way for the demons in my head?
How many bodies have I eaten and abused in my bed as I look for the lost love in my sheets that only shows when its red.
A poem of love and death, a tale of lust and hate, this is a crime of passion led astray.
Skin like a doves breath, a voice of trust and filled with hope and fate, one day the beauty and art of you will help me find my way.
Even if it means our death is to be the outcome of a beautifully painful day.
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