And during these dark, empty nights,
I find myself colder than the floor of my room.
When the morning wind caresses my naked legs,
The warmth of the blanket, an armor pierced through.
My soul, once a kingdom of carnations,
Is now empty, drought has left it barren.
And yet, there was a time
When we both wandered
Through fields of red carnations.
Sep 30, 2025
Sep 30, 2025 at 8:31 PM UTC
And during these dark, empty nights,
I find myself colder than the floor of my room.
When the morning wind caresses my naked legs,
The warmth of the blanket, an armor pierced through.
My soul, once a kingdom of carnations,
Is now empty, drought has left it barren.
And yet, there was a time
When we both wandered
Through fields of red carnations.
