"pieces" ..  for the wolVes

There's a taste
in betrayal
that

holds desire hostage

cleaning the clinical MonSter...

only to release
the rest of
what's left

in pieces..

for the wolves
yet
they find them foul
and

would rather go hungry
then pretend me a paradise

fit
for
flowers
in
a

pretty crematory castle

watching

and

while the wind blows
you can
hear the windows

cry in

iron 'n' ill clad



"let's promise we'd never

ever

after this time"

why is it that the ones closest to you fuck you.. friends are few foes are plenty