We all are in search, no one knows of what,
archery, our hands of heart are expert at,
still, the whatness felt over the blueness nest?
love on her eye's art must be kissed but is missed in the foxy fog in the titanic eastern midst,
washed the terrific wooden soul with a yell of sunken suffocation, when no breath had taken the transaction, oldness observed, and queenliness unlined and untouched yet,
see the sky doll not wet and how she smiles on the walking water wall with you over those frozen broken waves under the cry of the red moon, you fall a little deep with the war in you, peace of Pegasus destroyed the clans in the inner coldness, isn't it true?
last few seconds?
what will be your last thought?
The choice is yours, think to hold the hands of the queenliness: the pretty princess who will take you beyond the pink skies, or slightly lick this scene and sink the skeleton deeper in the dense dark sold sea of lost-unseen ships, seen never again ever after immense endeavours from time and dimensions unknown, where they go, no one knows?