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When the Pieces Started Falling Down.

Born from the storm

Th Darkest Dark

This Far Down

Big Bad Wolf

Poetry Poem


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This world better run or stay out of his path Nothing stands the heat, even his soul inside has craed His eyes spew the flames he cant seem to breathe His hands crush everything he can touch..... And even his dreams Oh and these chills you see, they're not nearly from the cold They're from holding ba the screams and his temper's short! Blooded cold shoulder motherf*er, Yes now its his turn Now the smoke is rising from him, He's watching it all burn. He's proud of who he is, Like the cruel world makes things... F* the consequence, becuase that's what he brings. His heart slams inside his chest more loudly than he can think. His hands touch everything he can crush ..... And even his dreams.

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