Exiled far away from home
In a land of foreign men
Like a lunatic I roam
Trying to be whole again
Sentenced with the harshest hand
To forever walk the road
With a dragon as my brand
With no voice and no abode
Scarcely anyone will look
At an old man on the trail
I'm a sinner, I'm a crook
You will be my final nail.
Only one thing I remember
After all was burned away
My forgiveness is an ember
In your nearly empty tray
Thus I walk, my stance is limp
And my legs have given in
You will treat me as a wimp
As if kindness was a sin.
To you
© Copyright: Триумвират, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115082707952
Свидетельство о публикации №115082707952
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