The dying sun
In its white rays
Has born a son
To set ablaze
The worlds below
That froze to death
Some time ago
But still draw breath.
The dying star
Has given us
The gift of char
And cleansed us thus.
Its rage I seal
Within my heart
To once reveal
My hidden art
That burns so bright
With all my hate.
A dying light
Will tell my fate
When all comes down
To one last choice
A crying clown
Will be my voice.
Fate
© Copyright: Триумвират, 2015
Свидетельство о публикации №115111601472
Свидетельство о публикации №115111601472
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