Tomorrows horizon, sorrow means no future, cover my face with my guilty hands. Miss the season the trees die, the birds dont sing anymore, the rivers never come back, nature dies out. This tragic figure destined to hurt never heal, what end can save me, what good gives me an end. Morning is inocent, nothing is fair, I keep wondering, how did I end up like this. First passion now is lost, a dramatic dead story. I killed all I have. My sadness is translated into madness. I spell meaningless words...a poem for Sorrow and Death!
Posted on: Tue, 23 Jul 2013 13:47:48 +0000
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