Elena Three

What else d'you need, make it the last dream, just leave me to bleed, consider me gone, busted or relieved, one day you’ll atone, hung out on the breeze, an Ocean of grief, won’t make you believe, think of the ghosts, who hang out in sympathy, they’re here in my bones, when you left the scene, under the purple trees, my eyes burst like seeds, you drink to forego, this terrible deed, has the cock crowed, what you once deemed, is hard to perceive, stowed like some luggage, into a creed.