moth
it in the lock a Day, in the light of eternal Hell. Him, who spent his life in the shadow of it for sacrifice to dwell in eternal darkness. When she took the night, they snatched him while his one and only. His living room, his food, only there so he can refresh himself on her. No plugging or bar him guards, no shepherd him to the green fields beyond, for only asphalt and cement surrounded him, include him as a corpse in the wall Took the time. A life that he never wanted to live now everything has become what it remains. Black is his soul, black was his home. Now he is the eternal Grell blinded and blind like a moth flying into the light, which holds his undoing.
We die more beautiful. And the world with us. Since the modern
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