Behold ye well, yet see no more,
Aspire blood to spring in thee,
What ye hath chosen? - temple whore,
With steamous lust to die and flee,
Her bowels crave in mightly fire,
Of lapis palace - in decay,
Thy eyes - supressing blood desire,
To undermine this precious pray,
Ordeals seem to tear thee - false,
Still - ye alive for aenos`s sake,
And blood is killing thy remorse,
Hath time befallen - live and take,
Yet brother - every man`s a star,
For thee wilt shine to End of Time,
Your pray wilt melt under your charm,
Do what thou wilt - it`s not a crime...
My brother, Perdurabo
© Copyright: Камила Назырова Мюссо, 2008
Свидетельство о публикации №108040600091
Свидетельство о публикации №108040600091
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