Preword 007

You know the truth of evening hours
That constantly turmoils settled soul.
You heard the rumors of foul words
That swallows into pain already broken heart.
You saw the place, that are lingers with yesterdays warmth,
Your mind creating sillouets of heated lovers play.
You know the truth, and it is painful,
To realise, you are not the one to whom her love is gifted.
But is it love, or just desire of the lustfull heart?
There is no logic in desires of flesh and sickened mind.
But only blackened envy is now fullfiling void inside,
And mind is swallowed by the thoughts which clouded
By disgusted scenery of sin and treason of the hope.
What differentiate your beign and his existence,
Is only purity and sense of pain in the heart of yours.