The foul presence of it rots a blooming flower
Sending chills down my spine at the slightest thought of it
Sucking my every desire to breathe as it draws closer
It has, by far, being the greatest element which leaves no trace of hope
Draining my every energy inside me.
It's a stupid dementor. A hyperbole for STPM .
How I anticipate it. :)
0 C:
Post a Comment