And here comes the last one
All tired and loathing
So tired he cannot even run
Only he is laughing
The voices want him to die
Shoot your temple as you look to the sky
If only he could, if only he could
He is the last one after all
Destined to suffer all his life for good
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Time Capsules: A Poetry Collection
PoetryI should hate it. It's a curse, after all. I've caused a lot of pain, hurt a lot of people because of it. My youth went by so fast it's like I'm still there, at the very first step towards this insanity. I can only remember fragments of it. Eight ye...
