Tanya Panta

Hundreds, thousands, Millions or more, Her thirst for shadows keeps up the score, The Reapers, the Creepers have all...

Bleeding roses, Crying symphonies, Violins playing the same old song. Humming chantings to Pathway to perdition, Endless pathos stretched...

And the sky turned grey when the thunder of horses Galloped and froze the earth today. The blizzard pushed...