sundayshu - Hobbyist, Digital Artist | DeviantArt (original) (raw)

Literature

Your Hands

Your hands, they strangled me with warmth. Slowly, You dropped me from that place, Into this field of rotten apples. I bit my own flesh, Lick my own blood, I can hear the distant voice, they are laughing at me. I looked up to the black and white sky. The crows are mocking me. Ah, I am in despair. I will always be in your palm. Taking care of your rotten field. And when you decided the date of my disposal. You will happily drink from the cup I filled with my tears, as our children dances happily, Circling us.