A little poem that I came up with when I wasn't really thinking. It could be seen as an epilogue to Thirty Seconds, but I don't relly know, so, yeah, other than that, I hope you enjoy it. ^_^
Cold air, old sex,
the bed mussed and dirtied.
Faded screams and broken dreams
paint the walls of this old home, and
ripped shreds of black-grey-blue fabric
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