the true Diablo. , by eleanor maslen Subscribe to rss feed for eleanor maslen

I can still smell you on my skin,
that dirty rancid stink within.

I can feel your hands on my soul
squeezing tight, till i’m dead and cold.

I still hear your voice in my dreams
and my own howling, dieing screams.

I still see, your horrid face
Your inky eyes,the true digrace. 

My heart is still a broken prison
the scars are still bloody crimson

after all these nights and days and years
your still my pain my darkest fears.

I blame you for the life i live
and the pain and hurt that i give

I trust no-one anymore
and i'll die alone on hells shore.





Posted: 2011-10-03 14:27:28 UTC

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2011-10-11 21:17:26lance
dark,,,,,,only way 2 describe it