Thou art the blood,
Thou art the faith,
Thy soul is mud
Falled with dismays.
Thy eyes doth bleed
With woeful sigh,
Thou art my need
That pleadeth lie.
Thou cutest tears
Like God of Flame,
Beholdest fears
And savest my name.
Thy eyes are cursed,
Orisons fade
And Thou art forced
To touch my blade.
Thy power leaveth
Thy cold blood
And my beloved sins
Stop its flood.
Now lo and hard!-
I shan’t repeat!
The imp’s lust’s dark
And maketh thee bleed.
As long as rain
Doth cut thy wrists,
Thou art insane
And reign in deeps.
Thou art
© Copyright: Марья Лааксонен, 2009
Свидетельство о публикации №109021705819
Свидетельство о публикации №109021705819
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