All bellowing, worked
Inside out
trusting pain
in lonely outlook
Now, that you fly a kite
Do you think
the string will
Muffle out the pain up there
In all your abundance
I kept loosing myself
Till no more wrath
Piped in through my dead body
All is not balanced now
because
Within a few dead moments
We could hear cymbals working out its psalms
No comments:
Post a Comment