The sigh of summer upon my return Fifteen alike since I was here Bathed in deep fog, blurring my trail Snuffing the first morning rays Weary from what might have been ages Still calm with my mind at peace Would I prosper or fall, drain the past The lapse of the moment took it's turn I was foul and tainted, devoid of faith Wearing my death-mask at birth The hands of God, decrepit and thin Cold caress and then nothing I was taken away from my plight A treason bestowed to the crowd Branded a jonah with fevered blood Ungodly freak, defiler Pale touch, writhing in the embers Damp mud burning in my eyes All the faces turned away And all would sneer at my demise Outcast with dogmas forged below
HATA BİLDİR
|
Yorum Yapın