nocturne agate
There’s a snail on the stage,
That can’t seem to turn the page.
Wonder why it performs?
Well there’s turbulent storms.
Bonfire retreating to wrathful cycle,
Beats out all the wrath and riff of the spool.
Well demonized cruel fire what have you done?
What threat is a curled up blade? A dead one.
Brilliant magnesium, such shameful clouds.
Crying mania “A cut!” what twisted pouts.
desert kindle
tranquil lotus