it scratches on the window shield,
my pensive and unhappy hate…
afraid. afraid. afraid. afraid.
my nursery toys are cold and gray.
to this, a prisoner i yield
myself… i look now through a grate.
the river black, the gnarly walls…
the sickening, tearing world of styx.
if ever was anything saint to me??..
if ever, ever did i please
zehn kleine fixer - then i flee.
i fail it now. the river calls…
(19 ноября 2001, 2:52)
Styx torment
© Copyright: Alhora, 2001
Свидетельство о публикации №101111900089
Свидетельство о публикации №101111900089
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