The wind wistles though the branches when I walk
into the land,
that I have made
the land full of dark secrets,
that I have seen.
the wind wistles though the empty battlements,
when I run,
terrified at what i have wittenessed,
it haunts me.
the wind wistles though the empty corridors of memory,
when I scream,
at what I know.
what i've done.
who I am.
~by: Sakuka~
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My Insane Ramblings.
i quit my other...i'm going back to bad poetry...
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