in the empty
yearning
of a song,
tales forgotten
bloom again.
But left unshared,
Crumble like the husks
Of bugs,
Deceased
And
Dead.
stillness
in the empty
yearning
of a song,
tales forgotten
bloom again.
But left unshared,
Crumble like the husks
Of bugs,
Deceased
And
Dead.
theDeprevation 