Chapitre 93: rims of irises II
Cold
Is my mold that I grow
A cancerous spawn dotting my skins
In the heavy rain I cry in
I spurn
It all - an epitome of greed
The kiss on my forehead is not for me
Only she can taunt me
Debasing gleams down to my feet
What am I?
A crack from demise
Falling under self-esteem cries
Motherfucking trusting hearts
Never wanting more than to depart
From the noises in my head
It's like a message to my bed
To dream
Don't we want it all
Getting ready to crawl
To the places I seek
Although the warning drones
Are telling me not to go
Where it began, begun
In a stone cold room
Or maybe a house
Instead of a home
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone