☾~You go home, snowflakes are circling around you. And the moon rises above the alley, illuminating the dark space around.You threw your head back to look at the beauty of the winter sky. And being in headphones, you do not hear and do not see what you stumbled upon after. A tall guy whose face is all in bandages cuts poems on a piece of corpse flesh. He turns on you as sharply as possible. - Oh? I think I've found another muse for my poems.. Your corpse will look great when I sign it.~☾