“Pain Of This World”«•»By: Alyssa Oca«•»

In the morning flight, only one point is caught by the claws stretched in the radial wind. It descends from the sky, and hits the air in a dense air. It is full of sadness and is the breaking limit of the inner shell. . The moon hides and rejects, tends to stagnate alleys and three resounding words, and the huge bells say unbearable overwhelming pain. In my soul, I am filled with the ocean of sorrow. The burden in my heart is lost because of the emptiness of the crown of thorns on other melody, and it is futile because of the painful rhythm of straight forward...

The lilac waves in the moonlight pale from the hidden nightingale, deeply enjoying the deep joy in the shadows. The stinging air in the deep abyss is surrounded by sharp razor blades for every painful movement. The white frost turns into a deep red red, and it is really painful to lurk in pain. As they say, the blade is further sunk into the cold debris, no longer beaten, watching his enemies float on the evil land. At the door of Hell near each tongue of the flame, showing the evil real mask, showing his death swollen veins, and plunging in desperate sin, showing the devil's mouth in all its darkest tonal dreams...

Through the eyes, deep into his thoughts is like the fragments and lines of poetry. The dark shadows flowed with a sharp rhythm as time passed, and the common tears filled with confused doubts and became a fever of fear. Wrapped in thick arrows, the difficult art is painted in the horror, behind the mask in a windowless room. This room has a gun to tear off tears. This is an eternal space. The mass with gravity density tends to be smaller by the two layers of mass, and due to eternal problems, it encounters a paradise of rising night on the infinite sky connecting door. Space view. The continuous explosion, magnified to the endless depth of the core, makes the blood become impressionistic. Until the blink of an eye dies on the lips, these mirrors are filled with broken mirrors, to define the thunderous sorrow of the yellow-rimmed eyes, which means that the thousand volumes are just colorless and innocent drops.

The darkness behind the light, the pale light dripping on the blurred shape, because the wind in the still sky drowned. Only the flames like a broken song rustle, talking in the empty flowers, like the sound of opening a window echoing endless tears in me, rebounding in the wind, with terrible Heartache blows to the ocean. In the heartbeat clutch, the jagged flame ribbon disappeared, the midnight sky was torn, the seed whistle and the flogging glass were driven, and the flame was dazzled to its base to unravel the storm cloud pattern. When night falls, when the last rain falls to its limits, the sky is falling on your body, and when the last raindrops break through their limits, a sacred smoke is smashed in the damp air, tearing. The reticular line until the first dawn of the next dawn...

They have no coronation of happiness, the keys are lost, the thorns that add them to the song, burning from the desperate circle into ashes... Turning my focus to the sky, continuing to touch the rain, falling on this soul, let You are crazy beyond the scope of my slaughtering era... With the sound of cymbals, the hell and fog in the chain extend to the sharp eyes of the eyes, and deeper into the edge for the great pain of my royal family, nothing Rhyming a stolen verse, entering the realm of the bloody moon, the dark canvas of obscurity, has been overwhelmed by the silence of the night...

In the open sky, the crying fades, and no one else is desperate in the vibrant wake of the wilderness... In the midst of death, what makes me most painful is that the silence after death will cover up your sorrow. The deception of the shadow of the key emptiness, the expansion is the forbidden vanity that is cut off... The blood breaks through your skin, flows down like sweat, flows into your heart, blinds because of sorrow, is two The tears of the tear like a murderer trembled and gave himself a crown... There was a line of tears on you, a pain in your voice, an eternal death on the cross. In the torture, until the horrible hot noon to your grave, in the action of the hammer being crucified, in the pain into the eyes... The footsteps gently rising in the mysterious breeze, flock to you in the tears of infinite. Filled with silent bones, as if your heart is sinking in the sea and sinking from the skin to the soul. In this damp environment, with the end of the dead piano, full of silent devils, the sacred ring of a senior commander in hell is attracted, falling like the flames of the end of the world...