Angels Have No Thought Of Ever Returning You
Free on SceneLog — log in or create an account to track it.
Overview
The Colors Of This World Are Fading, Should I Be Afraid Of The Damp Future That Awaits. It's Gotten So Cold, I Can Hardly Stand It. My Skin Is Peeling, My Mocking Veins Protruding, I Can Feel My Organs Shrinking And My Brain Shriveling. What Will Be Left Of Me To Devour Once Fates Boney Fingers Claw At My Flesh.
Comments
Be the first to comment.
Leave a comment
Your email won't be published. Comments are reviewed before they appear.