I am always the one to feel pain
Yet I never claim to be the victim
The heart we sold feels no shame
Yet they seem to hold the key
From the psychopaths I love
To the dog women in chains
When could I fly away gracefully?
For the bitterness I feel only stings my dreams.
Tomorrow I lust for the dead
Those. Their heavenly presence.
Their fashioned beauty
Their shawls that sway with an endless passage into the veil of mystic darkness. How I yearn for you.