Pain
I can fly
through the gleam.
Lullaby…
Rain drops
beat the roof,
pain robes
I can’t move.
Nerves are sick,
muscles tense…
Angst and shriek -
a dark stance.
In the vast
sea of spasms
my mind tests
sharp sarcasms.
Flying free
in my sleep
I will flee -
a bird’s trip.
O my God,
grant me flame
in your plot
keep me sane,
disconnect
from my chains
and inject
hopes - not pains.
Свидетельство о публикации №105012500210