MY APOCALYPSE

arya

blod drops are fealing the flor,
and so is the blade,
cous i can not feel the power in my hand any more.

all i can think about is you,
the suffer you cost
the pain theat the lust
spread over my vains.

but i san not hate you.
your beautifull hair,
your adorable lips,
thou everything you say is like sword in my heart,
the blade that goes strait throu my wrists,
and keeps my from death less apart.

i can slowly feal the vormth leaving my heart,
as if there was no guard,
 to make my life a little les hard.

onely the shaddows i see,
and there is the darkness spreding around my.

so farewell my friend,
and good you be.
i hope all your sadness,
DIES WITH MY!