I was born into sorrow, stressed position.
No souls left to borrow, a brocken depisition.
Break me my brocken again.
Just another token of raining sins.
Crippled, and no turning back.
Simple, and pain retracks.
So far from the glory, pasts with holy truth.
A degridated story, ending with a neck, and rope.
© Copyright 2016 Nessly305. All rights reserved.
Book / Poetry
Poem / Romance
Poem / Fantasy
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