His eyes were filled with knowledge of his doing.
His smile aged with the victory of souls;
See thievery of lone hearts
Belonging to girls like me
Had become his occupation.
Knowing fear of pursuit,
Would be non existent.
His voice strung us in a line, along
With reminders of his previous conquers;
Souless consorts, possessed by his possession
Of their heart strings.
Whilst I pondered on stumbling feet
Over the idea of pian detonating
In the barren soul holders,
Freeing us of him.
Like week old roses
That lay beside a bed
Fully aware of unrequited love.
More so he relished in psychotic things;
Like being my best friend’s
lover and I, his
Evil dwells in the prettiest forms
Light from Lita
See you soon