WordsToaCreepyWriter

When you are in hell, every feather fallen from sky is a totem. That's the only thing I can do in this disgusting world of similarity. I don't have money. I don't know english so well. I don't like humans. I'm too problematic to love. My life is books and histories about wanderers in unknown lands, bard's melodies, blind soldiers screams. My heart now have became a magma stone putrefacting day by day. There's no redention for lost souls in the limbo of racionality, and there's no hope to the silent dreamers. Pelase, do not copy anything, and talk to me. I like hear/read. LastFM: http://www.lastfm.com.br/user/Wylla_thekiller Facebook: htt