In The End A Fool Never Wins

Your moisten mist upon my lips greedily I taste, the fool who waste. If bleached bones stand along in hot burning sand then your taste confounds those binds that bound. Dripping blood from wounded heartsfear of the fool found left in the dark.Heed my words before you cast me a sidethe stab of pride stillContinueContinue reading “In The End A Fool Never Wins”