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by Kari
Rated: E · Poetry · Gothic · #1204548
Cold poem, dismal from the past.
No words written here on bleached white paper can truly give justice to the feeling of falling, into that pit again how repetitive Where is the Chaos? Lost, perhaps or bound by the demented illusions of order. Filth and sleep I go to sleep, may the dreams give me peace, and free me from the chains.
© Copyright 2007 Kari (maki_sake22 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1204548-Release