Black out the skies,
Oh Lady of Suns,
Claw out my eyes,
The Lady-who-runs.
Scorched is my face,
Alit by your wrath,
Sharp is your grace,
Short is my path.
Called is your bluff,
The gauntlet is thrown,
No world is enough
To challenge your throne.
Dusk is in bloom,
Pierced is the veil;
You shall be Doom,
I shall be Flail.
The fool
© Copyright: Триумвират, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114101309189
Свидетельство о публикации №114101309189
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