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posted last year, edited last year
another angle of the eyeballer
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trophyGarden Of RotTheir ceaseless hate burnedOur souls beyond recognition,Let us bewail and bury theseCharred chunks to the gardenWhere smothered hopesAnd broken dreams lay,Forever decaying. May our seeds of despairGrow into the flowersLike the ones standing there,Forgotten and withered,As we were never allowedTo bloom under this dead,Old frozen sun. The only thing left of usAre our ill-fated remains,Emaciated hands reachingFor a polluted sky they yearned,Here we shall stay and rot,Thrown away from the worldThat never wanted us.