Enough
to the core,
Mornings
are buttered in gore
The
thorns are just acting out on the fence,
Although
they were plugged for defense
Wind
is just scaring the hell out
Never
thought it will spit and doubt
Rains
were good, they were in thoughts
The
water tricked, as salt barged
Bittering the bond, the wounds aroused
The
blacks and blues perch by the life
Elfing
the hope, they never leave the house
I
say, where's kind, bleeding in the swing
Stop
pushing, the bonds just sting
