Слова:
Despised Icon The Healing Process

Carry the burden, sedated by a clouded moment. As strength fades away, self-pity turns into nauseating grief. Desecrate my frail lungs and limbs. Anatomical

Harvesting the deceased. Artificial tissues made in laboratories. Engineered cells reinforced. Praising complex metamorphosis. Harvesting the deceased

Standing alone inside a frantic crowd with incriminating facts in hand. An imperative vision of satisfaction. My overwhelmed pupils contain illegible

This desire is so annoying, like a red hot rock in my palm. My nerves hurt and my legs convulse. Walking on broken glass. The soporific serenity permanently

It's been seven nights since my latest craving. An urge so compelling, it consumes my every thought. Drawn by the glare of your flaming lips, fascinated