Degenerate souls stride through entryways leading to...
Seperate the ingenius from the affectionate and the soulful from the monstrous.
You are cunning.
Scowl at the killer and name her the sinner.
Not by my terms.
Phantom whispers decay in my rotting ears.
Color me blindly.
I am a blind color.
A bedridden socialist with fear seeping from her pores.
Constant motives.
Never clear.
Always wishing.
Never there.
Steam rises from the incarcerating grave where my body lies.
The sun; it ignites the dirt with a hate that could fuel the nation.
Father, am I your daughter?
