• Ginger ale and the smell of indecency seeps through the walls,
    Where your sickness lies in healthy trends
    And it takes more do die than willing hands,
    Graced with the disturbance to their peaceful projects,
    And forced to do your dirty injustices
    Pay no more attention to your senses,
    Cut off by finalities and broken promises,
    You’re destined to die at her hands,
    Smelling of impurities and fading by the second.