Tác giả: Marco Hietala

Đã tìm được 4 bài

1. The wolves, my love, will come. taking us home where dust once was a man. is there life before a death? do we long too much? (And never let...

1. A crow flew to me, kept its distance. such a proud creation. i saw its soul, envied its pride. but needed nothing it had. an owl...

These stories given to us all. are filled with sacrifice and robes of lust. dissonant choirs and downcast eyes. selfhood of a condescending...

1. Sweet little words made for silence. not talk. young heart for love. not heartache. dark hair for catching the wind. not to veil the sight of a...