the soul

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Bitter nothing passed these lips as words poured towards you in silent riffs.   A melody of sour times the money good s, the smell of muscidimes   Serene breezes flow through us
It's who she is that makes her beautifuland not her looks that make her glowBut her soul shines through her fleshlike the sun that beams against the iciclesUniquely designed snowflakes intricately combined
  Blood runs fast You need to move fast before you’re nothing more than the past The future runs through your veins Dictations, like a school teacher, the crimson run determines the existence of future gains
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