Read Time:48 Second
He didn't promise a bed of roses, but a place in the moon.
His intentions were true but life lost its color, as did I,
staring into the emptiness, holding on to the doorknob that shuts away the pain.
I hear strange voices, echoing in my ears.
A black sun rose from the west, where the earth slipped on its face,
Kicking the flora out of its place, a world of deathly hallows created by the puppeteer wearing a collar,
the serpent on two legs offering salvation, yet choking on its own venom.
Silence enveloped us as I was lured to sleep.
It started before I could open my eyes.
I gave the keys, the door slightly ajar, and the echoes lingering on.
I'm undone, a new chaos has begun.