Hell's Island - The Blue Falling Door

No promises to keep
No excuses to believe
A window and a book
Black window as a look

Walls. Black.
Anesthetized from emotions.
Lines. Cracked.
Burning into an opaque mirror.

A knife
A trembling hand, veins are so naked
The sky The purest eyes inhale the soul

Soul is a rare thing
Some are hidden, some are killed

Breathing alone and blind
No one lies, no one cries

Stay alone to slight
Or make the creed commits a suicide

A soul can't heal
It dies – and if is strong – it revives