Miserable, cold and alone
Yet alive; And your throne
Stands besieged, yet unbent
All throughout your descent.
You've forgotten your name
But it lives in the screams
Of the wind; And your flame
Is alive, and exalted in dreams.
Yet the scythe on your heart
Lingers still; And its master
In contempt of her art
On the edge of disaster
Stands and faces the storm
To awaken the rage
She will be your new form
While the storm is your cage.
***
© Copyright: Триумвират, 2014
Свидетельство о публикации №114101906102
Свидетельство о публикации №114101906102
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