You taste of tragedy.
Your lips are ash.
Your hands are stone.
Inside your chest
Lies crumbling walls.
And in your throat
Are the embers of
Empires that burned
Before your eyes.
W (via endtablefororphans)
You taste of tragedy.
Your lips are ash.
Your hands are stone.
Inside your chest
Lies crumbling walls.
And in your throat
Are the embers of
Empires that burned
Before your eyes.