Or tunnels, in white gates
It was just that our hands were so tight
Waiting for the hint of a spark.
Fear is the heart of love.
The greatness of melancholy
Swear on your throne.
A storm through the still bright night
This is how it illuminates the days
with the darkest dreams
puzzle to reflect the goal.
Looks like you crossed the mark
of indescribable darkness
I’m afraid you drowned
hoping that what you think will come
neutralized by the sharpest moments.
Burn the path
and keep the flames burning
before the end appears
in the fog
naked the shadow
thrown while the end curtain falls.