Scarred
Dry blood covers my face.
It isnt a blanket of warmth,
but a sheet of winter.
I walk with eyes on my memories.
The same memories that birthed from dreams.
Savoring the milk that pours from the mother's breast.
Feeling her emotions tango towards insanity.
...
It isnt a blanket of warmth,
but a sheet of winter.
I walk with eyes on my memories.
The same memories that birthed from dreams.
Savoring the milk that pours from the mother's breast.
Feeling her emotions tango towards insanity.
...