With a contrasting black and white suit, he throws words of pure hatred at me.
Knowing what he was doing and purposely beating up a child with a wooden bat.
With the dreaded brown balaclava over his head with shapes cut out to match his sadistic laughter pulled over his dying face.
The two black holes to replace the books of the human face. And an ecstatic grinning face of unheard of insanity.
I'm sorry for talking about myself again.
Carry on.
DU LIEST GERADE
Dum Spiro Spero
PoesieA combination of 26 symbols on the many shades of my descent into madness. (the later ones are the most recent, the ones at the start are from when I was about 15 or so. I was relatively poor at writing poetry back then; 'backwards questions' was my...
