My story. "DIKT, Lång"

It all begins with a cracked tiny shell,
You took it and brought it from hell.

You aid it
making it grow
instead
Its killing you slow

You start to fight back
but now
you're the one starting to crack

The shell grows
and takes more place
and could you ever replace
locking it in a case
frearing you would displace
the little shell
you brought from hell

After giving it all you have
and all you are
It'd left
but a big scar

From the shell and angel emerging,
you are feeling the urging
to keep it by force
so you use your every source
of you power and mind
in tought that she would be kind

Angel with fragile wings
saying you were
the strongest of kings
that you'd lost your wings

Kindly accepted her voice
feeling
Like you had the choice.

You had fallen deply in love
Taking her whole
how could you be so sure
That she wasent a whore

This story is yet to be made
maybe in a serenade.

Trees grow to be written
Books grow to be red
Yet another chapter is written
Yet another page is red.