wooden bloom
Blood on the floor, where a dead man lay
The curtains were closed, the floor had been swept.
The people come in, just look away
Through the lattice as poison ivy crept.
As the bed stays in place, no one comes in
But the wind still blows non-stop, on and on
The dark room that is left is filled with sin
And the room will forever be lost upon
bed demons of the night no longer claw
Because there’s no one, It’s there place of life
At last, without no one the terrors thaw
And so, briefly ends the routine of strife
All was left, was the dreadful mess of art
The mess that could never be loved with heart
(what do you think i should change?) <@&968253730841567284>
tropic stone