The whirl that drew my inner flame
Apart the surface light
Comes weak around its fading aim
As we are sunk in daily game
We hold up for tonight,
We never caught the abyss air
But fell to break our fate,
I curse all of these loves unfair
That bloom at nothing but despair
Dragged in through outward gate,
I long for steep to stand on high
Unknown to downer souls,
To call a day we’re off to fly
While our illusion passes by
Among our virtual walls.
1997 Dec 5
ON HIGH
© Copyright: Tou, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104111501599
Свидетельство о публикации №104111501599
Рецензии