Vendetta

Brown eyes: 
little things― 
I ask from you. 

This is the holy land, 
you can walk, without 
offering anything. 

I will not surrender 
an alter ego 
for a price. 

The walls scoop 
the shadows 
for future skin. 

A small pilgrimage 
for the 
dying god. 

It hurts when 
my lips will not touch 
the flame.