The one who seals one thousand seas
Whose name reveals the stories
Of centuries. You've got the keys
To the dark territories
You've got the eyes of my demise
I feel it scratches my skin.
The end is bright. I cannot cry
Out my exhausting sin
This rotten seed was bittersweet
Which grew up in my weak chest
Like centipede it crawled and sneaked
Right to my heart with no rest
The one who rhymes one thousand lines
Whose tales define misfortune.
I drink your wines as well as lies
Let this be my last torture.
16/03/2025
The One
© Copyright: Мари Вальтер, 2025
Свидетельство о публикации №125031607240
Свидетельство о публикации №125031607240
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Scarred entity with a wound in place of heart watches with the eyes of misery and speaks the language of pain - that's what I call pure poetry...
Вячеслав Карижинский 22.03.2025 07:26 • Заявить о нарушении
Вячеслав Карижинский 22.03.2025 07:26 • Заявить о нарушении