Silver Line for a Pulse
A Poem By Shindemura Yuu
I smiled at the reflection
Caress of cold winds touches me…
The writhe of my soul is at hand
In darkness of sickening corpses.
The midnight ravels the satin
With the clock ticking through this nightfall
All is absolute in this razor
My grave is hollow without my name
As the fallen angel desired me…
Die, and creak for your tormented soul
‘till then the sensation of the silver line
Buried in my ripped pulse.
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