There's a file of stories behind my pillow
Every night, the blood of her soul rushing down her cheeks that carries sorrow.
Her beaming face conceals a hollow window that silently weeps for freedom she is unable to pursue.

Crumbled dream and shattered ambitions, longing for medicine for the voice inside her head. She want to rest as how her head lay in the cushion. The stories from her mind to the nightmare of her bedroom pillow, she won again, but the monster leaves a water stain.
There's a file of stories behind my pillow.


© Virgust29