Two glass trees

Skin, bones. Metal and woes.

Black tipped feathers, twisting writhing.

 

I'd alwasy wished i could dance. Like the spider.

My jealousy.

Leather face.

Devils prodigy.

 

The moon reflects of stained glass walls.

Cluttered with graffiti.

 

When fiction turns into truth.

Charming skyline's bloody past.

 

And through the trees the brief glimps, of something.

Something beautiful.