20 August 2012
Your standing outside. Near my gate, Near my wall, Its not so tall, To not see your face, Tension is what you taste, A cough, a scream, a tear, Wondering what I'll do my dear? Knock on the door, Wait on the floor, You know what you did, You know you ran and hid, Murderer. Now you've got a nickname...
Murderer of love.
Murderer • Opuss № I