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 HAMPERED SOULS ~ projet littérature

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as we sin, so do we suffer.


Messages : 175
Date d'inscription : 05/05/2012

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MessageSujet: HAMPERED SOULS ~ projet littérature   Lun 11 Fév - 20:40

    from somewhere to somewhere else.
    Je suis bon, tu es mauvais. Il est rêve, nous sommes cauchemar. Vous êtes teinte, ils sont contraste. Impensables parias d'une société, âmes vagabondes d'oeuvres oubliées. Enfouies sous les regrets et les tourmentes de nulle part à nulle part ailleurs. Nulle place à laquelle appartenir, nulle loi à laquelle obéir. Nous chérirons ceux que vous chérirez, nous haïrons ceux que vous haïrez, nous souillerons ceux que vous voudrez.



    dorian gray.
    The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads. The rising of the horns, ahead from the dawn of time to the end of days. I will have to run, away. I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste of the blood on my lips, again.




    the mad hatter.
    The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads. The rising of the horns, ahead from the dawn of time to the end of days. I will have to run, away. I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste of the blood on my lips, again.




    alex de large.
    The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads. The rising of the horns, ahead from the dawn of time to the end of days. I will have to run, away. I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste of the blood on my lips, again.




    thérèse raquin.
    The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads. The rising of the horns, ahead from the dawn of time to the end of days. I will have to run, away. I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste of the blood on my lips, again.




    winston smith.
    The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads. The rising of the horns, ahead from the dawn of time to the end of days. I will have to run, away. I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste of the blood on my lips, again.




    doctor frankestein.
    The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads. The rising of the horns, ahead from the dawn of time to the end of days. I will have to run, away. I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste of the blood on my lips, again.




    jean-baptiste grenouille.
    The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads. The rising of the horns, ahead from the dawn of time to the end of days. I will have to run, away. I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste of the blood on my lips, again.



    henry jekyll.
    The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads. The rising of the horns, ahead from the dawn of time to the end of days. I will have to run, away. I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste of the blood on my lips, again.



    cosette.
    The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads. The rising of the horns, ahead from the dawn of time to the end of days. I will have to run, away. I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste of the blood on my lips, again.



    the horla.
    The sound of iron shocks is stuck in my head. The thunder of the drums dictates. The rhythm of the falls, the number of deads. The rising of the horns, ahead from the dawn of time to the end of days. I will have to run, away. I want to feel the pain and the bitter taste of the blood on my lips, again.

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