Nevermore | Jake Allen Sharp

This is deep, To the core.

This is what we all die for

What the grave holds in store

Knocking at my bedroom door

When the bird hits the glass of the window

In slow motion it falls to the ground

Black feathers float for a while as the wind blows

Like us, they will all fall down

Deep. To the rotten core.

Lying on the bedroom floor

And the blood begins to pour

So many things are…nevermore.

Source: Nevermore | Jake Allen Sharp 

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