"gullibility" poems
The moment for us to say our goodbyes has come
Our eyes will flood then we’ll be on our way
A final farewell to what once belonged to both of us
Times run out but we have plenty of regrets
My brown eyed November
You’ll never know what you were worth to me
Even after the fights, the excruciating frustration
I would walk on broken glass barefoot just to get to you
To be honest there isn’t much I’d do for you
But now I can’t do anything
I gave you everything and you walked away
I know, but you don’t
Have a clue how much damage you’ve done to me
I never told you my secrets
I never told you everything
My brown eyed November
You don’t know how much you meant to me
The moon fall and the sun rise
Shine on our lies
I knew you were treacherous
Yet I still clinged to you hoping maybe it would all change
Let’s end this, I want it
I need to calm down
My brown eyed November
You are truly invaluable
The ocean bathes us the sand dries
Cleansing our lives
You couldn’t care less
My appreciation goes unappreciated
If it isn’t and I am wrong
Please, now is the time to tell me
The karma
Bad karma
The cause of all of this
The memories of you will stay even when you are gone
Mistrust will linger but hope resonates
We’re like summer in the fall, we’re leaving
Mistreating, believing
After all this I don’t want to be your one and only victim
What do you care? You never believed in soul mates or in true love
I can’t stay, even though I want to
You gave false hope and empty promises
Injected me with a tranquilizer and put me in a state of gullibility
Was I dramatic or miserable?
I know you can’t be replaced, why would I want another one like you?
So good bye my brown eyed November
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 10:31 AM UTC
Like a male monkey you rises up
And thumps hard your chest-it is you and you only!
O Man! You forgets, who you are and what you are is Nature’s
She generously gives and she avariciously takes-
Just a few chances she is giving you to repent before she ruthlessly returns
She is a sharp, doubled edged sword-merciful and merciless!
Man, Humanity is not hostility: Humanity is humility!
Like Sheol that is never satisfied you want to swallow the whole world
Like death you want to take everything, big-small-you want to stomach all
Everything you want to keep to yourself, to be to your entitlements
You take and leave nothing at all for the harmless hopeless-the voiceless
Yet you easily forgets, when the angel of death calls it’s only you and your soul in burials
Your ill amassed pride, wealth and health is not with you anywhere in this your brutal trials
Man, Humanity is not gullibility: Humanity is generosity!
O man! O man! You fills the whole world with mortality
You have killed the sole essence of the soul’s endless immortality
With your undignified dishonesty, your free-will to filthy immorality
War you begins wealthy to get-war is a supernormal profiting business
Man, Humanity souls has never been subjects to severity but sanctity!
Innocent-as little as little children-you murders-they were inevitable!
Common civilians’ deaths are collateral damages-inescapable!
You forgets who you are-you are a little loaned, little you returns for judgment
Here no allies to look after your backs, no cracks to corruption kickbacks-
It is the fairest of all hearings, a ***** for a ***** it is not for a big spoon!
Man, Humanity is not ignobility: Humanity is dignity!
What you are given to govern you governs not
What you are given to take care of you pilfers all
For you and your lineages eternal legacies-the richest ever to have graced the earth!
Yet you forgets, Master a little while returns to put you to a rigorous account
And whoever much is given-that much is also expected, what will be your report?
Man, Humanity is not royalty: Humanity is loyalty!
Humanity is a community, not a sorority of individuality!
Humanity is not infidelity: Humanity is honesty
Humanity is not how wealthy: Humanity is how a loyal legacy
Humanity is not how large is your multinationals entity:
Humanity is how huge is your small heart-its hospitality
Humanity is a humble history, a saintly story!
© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 1:23 AM UTC
Hypocracy Mandatory.
Gullibility Mandatory.
Insensitivity Mandatory.
Obesity Mandatory.
Immaturity Mandatory.
Childishness Mandatory.
Monarchy Mandatory.
Capitalism Mandatory.
Conservatism Mandatory.
Terrorism Mandatory.
Corruption Mandatory.
Incompetence Mandatory.
Socialism Mandatory.
Dictatorship Mandatory.
Militarism Mandatory.
Liberalism Mandatory.
Bhuddism Mandatory.
Islam Mandatory.
Christianity Mandatory.
Judaism Mandatory.
Hinduism Mandatory.
Vedism Mandatory.
Hatred Mandatory.
Anarchy Mandatory.
Jealousy Mandatory.
Nationalism Mandatory.
Fascism Mandatory.
Racism Mandatory.
Lies Mandatory.
Hypocracy Mandatory.
Obesity Mandatory.
Heart Disease Mandatory.
Cancer Mandatory.
Idiocy Mandatory.
Eco-Nazism Mandatory.
All of us Humans.
Of all Five Colours.
Wherever we be.
Whatever we do.
However we "see" ourselves.
What do we call ourselves now?.
How about shallow nitpickers?.
Or celebrity obsessed morons?.
Or religious hypocrits?.
Or Democrats?.
Or Socialists?.
Or Revolutionaries.
Or just plain "nice folks"?.
Or supporters of oligarchy policies?.
Or immature backpackers?.
Or government assassins of integrity?.
Or juicy ***********
Or swift tongued ******** ticklers?.
no matter how many lie dead or injured as a result
of our obfuscation and avoidance.
As if poets have the explanation to life
except in strings of meaningless associated
but fine sounding words.
When "poets" are the voluntary slaves of Mind
and Conditioned Identity..
As if poets had the ***** to go beyond all these things.
As if .
Scrape the Moons suface and you will find a delicate Castello Blue Cream Cheese.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
WE never camouflage with the masses nor follow trends and direction out of gullibility. The path WE're on may signify bleakness in the days to come and may look filthy to some.
Wait, the plural emphasised just struck my concern and weakness..are WE unified? or perhaps unity to US is all contrary and single word equivocation. Wait.. who are WE?..that question repetitively asked by my subconscious sarcastically.."I" answer "WE are who WE are. The misfits"
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 2:44 AM UTC
The Elephant went out for a trot
but instead retreated to its home.
The signs existed everywhere
but the paint tainted dark black.
The Elephant was told to be itself
however gullibility was on the prowl.
The mind powered through a no--
forbidden nature prevailed.
the elephant fell silence to its hope
although
the fire roared anyway.
Weakness bites at our knees.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 10:55 PM UTC
My back aches
It breaks from carrying you, Boy
So many years
All your life
All my life
You hold me back
And slow me down
You keep dragging me
Down to the ground
I could have flown but for you
Keeping the past within me
Anchoring me to the long gone
I remember you
Scrambling in the dirt
And fighting in the street
But underneath you were soft
Too fast to believe
And maybe you still make me a fool
I've always told you
Toughen up, kid!
I can't afford your gullibility
I refuse to feel your fears
Or hear the voices that scare you
Do you hear me, kid?
And tell me this, Boy
Do I still see the world
Through your wide open eyes?
By Phil Roberts
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 7:32 AM UTC
Saintly cassock,
Glittering altar
Ornamental pulpit.
Driving the congregants
in a paroxysm of fib,
Gullibility enshrines adherents
hearts.
Do you know the Messiah more
than the apostles ?
Thou traders in the temple.
Parrotic tongues set out
commands
Loquacious sweet-coated mouths
misdirects faithfuls.
But the uncreated Creator who
creates creatures watches
Dreadful silence astonishingly
permeates the entireness
of the universe.
Do you preach love?
Do you follow peace with all?
Ye robbers in the temple.
Command darkness to produce
light.
But you turned moonlight into
tale.
Can you display Davidic dance
steps on the road?
Profanity of sanctuary with
false homiletics.
Merchants of dross in tabernacle
Speak.
Let us hear you.
Preach
To the congregants.
Righteousness afar from the
apron of faith.
Charity locked up in the
tunic of hope.
Sanctity of holiness sprinkled
into the tributary of sin.
Commanding the stars to turn
to sun,
Captains of night in light.
Ye robbers in the sanctuary.
Pastoral advertisers of chattels
in the tabernacle,
Merchandising gold dross in
sermonic hymns.
Sugar-coated doctrine wept in
the tomb of Lazarus.
Prompting Him to weep again?
Ye merchants in synagogue.
Disentangle faithfuls from the
webs of worriment.
Dislodge congregants out of the
shackles of sin.
Deliver ignoramus from the
isle of incendiary.
Let the sifter of strength
separate out afflictions from
feebleminded faithfuls.
Ye robbers in the temple
You love prayers more than God
But who answers prayers?
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC
And suddenly, as if waking from a child's dream,
I am thrown into reality,
not awoken softly by my mother's warmth
but startled and bewildered to find her not there.
I exit the hazy surrealness of midnight rendezvous,
and the disillusionment snakes its way around my heart.
As if struggling to find my breath or finding myself alone,
I am starkly confronted yet again with my naiveté.
I am transformed into that little girl who trusted so easily,
and now, it is not just disappointment but also shame
that, like a vapor, evades every corner of my being.
To have believed in a dream and my own competence,
I am still that foolish little girl who never learned.
Perhaps, the worst part of gullibility is the knowledge
that the fool and the fooled will always be you.
Jul 18, 2023
Jul 18, 2023 at 5:05 PM UTC
I can see you glaring into my soul with your glassy metal eyes.
Drooling for the red thats flowing throughout my petite body.
Smirking as my gullibility rises as the seconds ticks by.
In that split second he can release the pain that enters my soul.
He can erase the memories that constantly darkening my spirit.
He's the only one that could bring reason to my existence.
If only those seconds could last a lifetime,
I would be able to live another day.
To dream, a dream.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 3:50 AM UTC
I sometimes wonder
if I were to write the word "gullible"
on the ceiling in cursive script,
how many people would have
enough faith in me
when I told them about it
to look up.
There's a thin line
between trust and gullibility
and I'd like to think
that none of my friends
would be so gullible
to believe that I was lying
based on the public opinion
of what I said.
Regardless of what the world
may think of me
with their downcast eyes,
my friends would look above
for the truth in my words
and smile.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
Overcome with grief
But with unhushed tears
I dare not weep.
But the gullibility I see
Makes my heart roar like an angry sea
At the Stupendous actions praised
On high a single minded chameleon raised
We have all failed
And our "knowledge", a waste
At night they lay asleep
With sweet dreams on empty promises
In support of a wolf
Indeed covered in roses
I am of the grass root, he poses
Of his evil deeds, he brags
Down south, his followers, he drags
And on the way down with smiles
And laughter eating rice with chameleon shell topping
They are all asleep.
When will our youths see visions?
Sometime soon I hope
Because it seems the old dreamers are on a mission
To enslave us all with gold plated ropes.
I have seen countless bridges
In multiple nations
And they were built out of necessity
And not stupidity
A waste of our very limited resources
In fact a direct and open robbery of our future
Yet we sit in silence
Our bellies filled with rice and the warmth of a friendly chameleon
With no direction, productivity or creativity
All our natural resources lay in waste.
We need to change our mind set
If we must save ourselves
From the single minded chameleons
Whose goal is self enrichment
And wealth procurement.
We must be weary of those who feed us rice
And rob our children of a promising future
Oh, What a price.
I want to watch as the cobwebs clears from their eyes
The awakening of a new dawn
A people on a mission
To overcome this impending destruction
Through their devotion
To the correction
Of our direction.
We must empower ourselves
We must stand together
For there is power in unity
And failure in division
We can't continue to live in foolishness
By indulging the chameleon's greediness
And enduring his insults in silence.
If there is a time to rise up in unity
It is now
If there is a time to do the needful
It is now
Sleep and slumber no more
For that is for fools
I'm nobody's fool...
© 2018 Busola S. Kolade
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
I’ve written enough small poetry
to start a nuclear war.
Do you want to die in traffic
behind the wheel of your car? Or in yr rodeer camp next fall.
Control eludes us. The hero
loses urinary control, the unified nation
loses missile control, lost my timepiece, lost my metronome,
now my music is ethereal as an archangel’s.
No owl hoots or duck quacks
or squirrels ********
or spiders spanning rampikes.
The floccinaucinihilipilification of nature.
No greater tragedy than a tipping
point that tests the hero’s gullibility, complicity,
self-control, comity, sense of humor
which is the only remedy not to hate those in authority.
Them guys with guns at the Michigan state house,
fat bearded tattooed ****** off white bros.
Norsemen, Crusaders, Vikings, Britons.
For despair there is no forgiveness. Peace out.
Nuclear mischief, mad Man’s most incandescent bloom
and the devil who exists to carry the load
when we misbehave and fight among ourselves.
I wake up to my skin boiling off my bones.
Humor is the only remedy, or is ardor the best way forward.
We’ll see how things work out in the next generation.
The same diverse, spoiled, unpatriotic revolutionaries as at the nation’s
beginning
trying to reverse the future, making phone calls to get out the vote in
Georgia, hating the desert for having no water.
Events keep piling up,
the future depends on ourselves.
Conflict is inevitable and in this conflict power must be challenged by
power
so err on the side of patience, perseverance and impermanence.
Dec 7, 2021
Dec 7, 2021 at 6:15 AM UTC
Words tossed
landing in mind fields
Thoughts perceptions
grow like weeds
Water swaying turmoil
nurturing seeds
Harvesting our love
holding up shields
simply waiting
wanting to give our souls freely
Deflecting
Neglecting
Tending to wounds
The memoirs of agonizing gullibility
Like razor blades to my brain
You take away the pain
Mere words could not explain.
Laughter holds all meaning
To this love lust never fleeting
Repaired damage thriving surely
Through the plains of time
Oct 6, 2011
Oct 6, 2011 at 1:41 PM UTC
im hungry ,
not because of meals...
not because of dinners...
not because of breakfasts...
im hungry to honest people...
because i felt disappointment about lies
im hungry to indulgent people
because i felt pain about obscurity
im hungry to generous people
because i felt gullibility about requests
im hungry to brave people
because i felt loneliness about cowardice
most of people going to starving i know
i wanna tell something about that
feed yourself with your pains,experience
search sincere people
because they're livin somewhere
life goes on...
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 4:14 PM UTC
Known sorrows
Are not only human
Death; sorrows is
What causes the
Heart to bleed.
If elergy is to be
Sung on sorrows mat,
Then it need not
Be for human death
Alone.
On the day when
Ecstatic moan
Escapes the cracks
And hinges gaps
Of neighbours’ door,
Phone calls generate
Laughters on the faces
Of lovers,
Love lost its life
In the hearts of hosts.
Though not human
Bereaved,
But death is death
For it once lived.
Love immortality
Is human gullibility
For it dies
Even as the celebrant
Every February 14th.
Aug 19, 2011
Aug 19, 2011 at 6:02 AM UTC
gentrified entanglement
a week dismembered,
full of craven gullibility
bags of flesh mouthing
silent words
in the hollow earth
stained red with leaking passion.
as an oil spill tucked neatly
away in the purest parts of the sea,
swelling and gathering speed
to blacken the earth.
angels dance with a cadence of
indeterminate in origin,
lacking in self preservation
a hundred thousand pretty words
wrought of iron,
worn down by the ebb of time,
which drives all
towards infinity.
there are things in this world
which we choose to believe
because the alternative
is all to terrible to abide.
Apr 8, 2012
Apr 8, 2012 at 2:38 PM UTC
Fragile Minded,
Gullibility that leaves me in embarrassment,
Causing an obvious departure from my notability.
I weaken as my former friends migrate to someone new,
Forgetting that it is time to move on.
I have struggles to let go from my past,
Nostalgia makes it impossible to achieve,
Those days have been long gone,
But my memory will always cherish them,
Even if they carelessly forget my name.
I'm wondering if my sadness is because I'm moving on from this place,
Or that I'm having trouble giving up the idea of it,
Whichever one my path leads to,
The lost art of smiling behooves me to feel blue.
It's meaningless and useless in regard to my successful future as a man,
But the emotional scarring will always be with me,
Part of me mourns my mistakes and lost notoriety,
But another part of me loathes the other part of me,
As it is someone I never truly wanted to be,
But had to be, in order to survive.
There were as many good times as there were bad,
But the bad times sinfully destroy my chances of retaining bitterness,
I've lost many girls before,
And friends who then became rivals.
Life in these years are like being guided by a safety net,
But the following year the world gets dropped in my hands,
Like a melted piece of clay,
And yet I have to be the one to mold it.
I'm not afraid of being a grown up,
I'm afraid to let go of my youth,
Not matter how petty and senseless these experiences may have turned out to be,
I'll always be me,
The teenager who refused to grow up.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 12:33 AM UTC
Don't tell me about bad habits
Because you're the bad habit I could've lived without
Don't act like you know me
Because after all this time I still wish I never knew you
Don't tell me about the future I could've had with you
Because our past saw no future
This toxic relationship that we had filled my body with the lava of liquid waste
Blood
And now, I feel like I am suffocated
With the fumes of your polluted mindset of us
When in reality its
Me and You
Separated by only one word
Present
Like twins or an untitled man
Our relationship was an abomination to the gods
A curse to the earth and all that was us, was doomed
My gullibility, was my downfall-like the people of Babylon
Who were selfish and wanted pride-I cut my own wounds and poured coarse salt into them
I still have to wet a cloth with burning spirits
And hide these scars and painful bruises
Because even though you never touched me(which is what i really wanted)
I feel like people can see through me
This toxic relationship that we had made the green-eyed monster real inside of me
And now
I will live my life thinking that there is nothing truthful about being a man
When in reality, it was you
Me, I didn't choose the right man
Thinking that you were my:Even in the rain I would hold the umbrella for you babe
When in reality you were my:Shut up ***** I told you I'm sorry
Like an ancient sarcophagus
You were the shape of callousness
With an outer beauty of humanity
And you showed me confidence
Built my self-esteem
But like Rudy said:When confidence hits the ground it echoes, like sin in a room full of God
But a God I did not know
You were my one true deity
I felt like I was in a paradise
A place called heaven
And to me, hell was just a rumour
But all the time you were here
I didn't realise that every night
I slept beside the devil
Would it be right to say
I miss who I thought you were
Or more accurate to state that
I never knew you
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 11:16 AM UTC
As a form of fourth grade torture
Christina would manifest lies to
test my gullibility and prove her sick wit.
When insomnia started to plague me
she devised a theory and quoted an obscure
scientific journal to flavorfully boost fake facts.
Imagine a jar of paint.
Imagine it spill on your head
and flow through the skull, veins, and organs
spreading down the body in slow
single-file motion.
The practicing therapist demands:
Begin with...
Green
Light cast by the green sun
has tap water turning into slime. Slime
that plunges through pipes on its way from
lakes now made of lime jello.
Sun.
Trees and flowers start to grow naturally,
experimenting with the flavors of the warm green rays.
A base of hunter green, a splash of forest,
with a hint of mint and freshly squeezed honeydew rain --
Lighter and brighter the plants photosynthesize,
breaking down the compound green into atom form
to find the protons, neutrons, electrons,
quarks of it,
until they reached the end of green.
Is it time to sink into the dark depths of
muddy green baseness down below
Or time to breach the walls of science,
enter mythology
to create a new light
and bloom into the Yellow Sun?
-Samantha Woznica '11
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
in ref. to the supposed "unholy" trinity -
i can only clearly identify one member,
antonym of the holy spirit (alias of
a community, rather than a person,
as stated by Žižek - in his words, should
it be different, it would be a profanity) -
if that is the case, then the variation
of holy spirit is ascribed the title zeitgeist -
or: the spirit of the times - the 20th century's
example is filled with zeitgeists -
communist, nazis, hippies, punks, goths,
beats, squares, or 21st century's militant atheists
and Jihadists, Blairites...
as is evident, the zeitgeist is short lived -
it's naive in being easily influenced - but because
of its gullibility it's also brutal in not being
influenced for worth of establishing a religion -
it's "unholiness" is precisely the reason why
it's poly-adaptable - multi-faceted - unruly -
it changes very quickly and is never rock-like -
but because of its gullibility it's also brutal in
not being influenced to the point of permanence -
the fluctuations are numerous, and democratically so,
many people can attach themselves to the "unholy
spirit" at any time they want, without knowing
they're actually part of a congregation - and as soon
as a congregation is established, the zeitgeist
implodes and disappears - the congregation breaks up -
soon overpowered by the forces of imitation -
ah - now the second person of the "unholy" trinity -
the Imitator - the flawed first entry post-zeitgeist -
never reaching the zeitgeist's potential, this tsunami
wave lasts longer than the actual zeitgeist - it's
a variation of nostalgia - not a nostalgia of thinking back
but a nostalgia of trying to revive - resuscitate -
the assortment of vanity projects; now i'm either too
hangover or just know what i have to do today
before the Royal Opera House and Verdi's Nabucco -
a peasant is heading into town, peasant better iron
his shirt and trousers and look respectably urban.
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 8:52 AM UTC
The rustic handles… they bind me to the folded cards
The counterfeit the cryptic sky that discerns my creeded disreflections
Steal the missing pieces to the puzzle of my approving gullibility
And let the friendly ghost keep my soul of exceeding sorrows
Let my mind be released form your own created prison
Place a hand in front, so the guilt will continue to circulate
The pressure of the weight of words that couldn’t escape the lips in time
Seem to be the reason to why I’m lifted so high far above from being heard
Spoken refrains vanquish the frights that abducts what is fine
And the heart that always attempts but can never be mended
And here you were, leaving me warnings
There I was disregarding the consequences
Your idea
And my cooperation
Counts the end to the stall of faults that have been further stained
They start to catch up
And begin to taint the sanctum of all thoughts
Becoming flogged
Every movement a precise digestion
But with a single offering you perfected the mess
Perfected the sinned humanity
Perfected everything
Leaving me behind
A broken lost mishap that shouldn’t have been brave enough to take a single breath in this world
And shouldn’t have been foolish enough to think that it could amplify the little emotions that I managed to posses
But in the end my worst mistake was thinking that I was even close to being considered
A real human
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Trusting, sometimes to the point of gullibility,
I feel things deeply (too deeply for some) and express it when it's safe...
if not, I'll remain silent and stay away.
More random than most and pretty abstract, I'm likely to take what you say very literally and sincerely care about every word.
Not extremely outgoing, though I can carry a conversation with pretty much anyone, but still can be so awkward in social situations.
I've been through a lot and sadly doubted myself too much.
As life has rolled over me, I've finally come to the conclusion that I am no more or less messed-up than anybody.
Gotta own who I am, and they can take it or leave it
Apologizing or trying to be other than who I am, doesn't change a thing
And I just wont do it anymore!
Dec 14, 2011
Dec 14, 2011 at 10:10 PM UTC
Broken thoughts, Broken promises.
I remember you promised you'd be there.
The toxic waste
That leaks from your heart and mind
Poisons my remaining self-worth.
My sense of self validity
Vanishes.
Like a Copperfield canary.
You were my other half.
Now my circle of trust
Is simply an open parenthesis
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 9:55 AM UTC
"let's get out of
this illusion"
she points out with a smile,
"is your favorite line"
i wanted to tell her
that's the opening line
of the novel i intend to write
in the near future.
but i didn't.
in this museum of man
we think we are just visitors
but live our lives all the while,
let me confess, i am confused,
i am misled by light effects,
cyclorama, well presented,
and sign boards deliberately
showing wrong directions.
one is continuously conditioned,
only to blindly follow the instructions.
gullibility is disastrous
that's the novel i plan is all about.
don't take in the ideas someone create
for your consumption.
script your story in your own words.
at times
i have this feeling getting strong:
the **original of me
is misplaced somewhere**
in this very museum.
i keep on searching
to find,
though not confident enough
to ask any one.
who could answer
this ultimate mystery of life?
Jan 31, 2012
Jan 31, 2012 at 7:18 AM UTC
There are the whispers that call the crows and these crows are numbered three. They are named Gullibility, Doubt and Misery
If ever a time you lose your strength or become lost amongst the pain, then these three crows will ensure you never find your way
Gullibility you see, with eyes as black as mud, has razor claws always red for he always draws first blood
Doubt is quite plain but with ruffled feathers greyed. Not so much the specialist, but is best amongst the plague
And finally swoops Misery, bloodied beak on black. The final move in a worn out soul, Death's merciful attack
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC