White White were those walls, Tainted in time. The dark oil patches, The steams and smoke. Dreams buried within each drop. Yes, the walls of kitchen... Painted all in tears and blood. The blood of killed dreams. The tears of mere body alive. And they say of funeral... To have the most tears flown. And of battlegrounds, For the count of blood drops. But these kitchen walls! They have witnessed the most of these. ©Sup_holster

Sup_holster

White White were those walls, Tainted in time. The dark oil patches, The steams and smoke. Dreams buried within each drop. Yes, the walls of kitchen... Painted all in tears and blood. The blood of killed dreams. The tears of mere body alive. And they say of funeral... To have the most tears flown. And of battlegrounds, For the count of blood drops. But these kitchen walls! They have witnessed the most of these. ©Sup_holster

Sup_holster