HYCENTH INSPIRATOR The embezzled hope was still dashed on the floor Causing the spleening blood to speed in grid down the lowly hill Even when the tender nipples is not yet ready to Breast the course of nature with its milk, Its force to alter peace with revenge; for The fumbling is painful, who can endure such? Looking around in despair with none to cling on The agony grows backward, leaving a sharp pain To this movement, stroking genteelly with hate her naivety And stabbing all emotions of love to be the perfect maiden When all is asleep with no lullaby song Thrusting their breathe into her embered down below Leaving none to doubt her enchantment effect on the already Lost sold but not find missing among its people With smiling hate she ask herself in joy what shall be their lot for casting my hope?
Posted on: Sat, 13 Dec 2014 19:01:40 +0000
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