The mold grows fast

Draining all my energies
This storm drags me on an abandoned lane
Confident and void of any mercy
This storm, black in its crushed center
Red on its tiptoes from the blood of its victims
Swirling its heads like a dragon
This storm, I say, smells like golden apples and
Leaves harsh traces on the skin of the earth
The mold grows fast between its breats
And speed is fed to the beast
This storm is draining all my energy
And I, deemer and deemerest I surrender
This storm, I say, smells like golden apples
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1 Response to The mold grows fast

  1. Thank you, Jamie Dedes!

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