inherited wealth
Surely I could coax a globe
To the fulcrum of my brow
Refracted light through my eyes
Finds a smile in a scowl
But what of the Hell
That tugs at my tendons concerned of only itself?
And what of the house
Supposing that’s something I should be concerned about?
Age of promise
Age of willful indiscretion
Age of relics
Age of tombs stood proud of their toil
I’m still brandishing disdain
Still shooing at the thought of old haunts
For every recollection
There’s always an interaction with your ghost
I know its a fool’s errand
Redecorating the room
I know its a fool’s errand
Redecorating the space
I know its a fool’s errand
Redecorating the room
I know its a fool’s errand
Redecorating the space
All I saw was the blood on the stairs
The shards of glass in the yard didn’t arrive from a leisurely walk
All I saw was the blood on the stairs
The shards of glass in the yard didn’t arrive from a leisurely walk
All I saw was the blood on the stairs
The shards of glass in the yard didn’t arrive from a leisurely walk
All I saw was the blood on the stairs
The shards of glass in the yard didn’t arrive from a leisurely walk