Nojoto: Largest Storytelling Platform

Going back to broken palace Behind the woods

     Going back to broken palace 
Behind the woods of acacia 
There I found my murdered 
Twin heart smiling
Inside the treasure box of
POETRY. 

The walls are colourless,
     Going back to broken palace 
Behind the woods of acacia 
There I found my murdered 
Twin heart smiling
Inside the treasure box of
POETRY. 

The walls are colourless,