Pictures of youth haunt me each day,
Memories hurt, stalking to prey.
Circus of pain, gangster my life,
Killing the man, ravens will shrive.
Epitaph will show
The depth of dimensions,
And owner of sadness.
Ritual will hoe
The ground of ovations,
When scaffold resentless.
The game of blank in twilight hall,
It bites the skin, and mind enthralled,
With grief and salt.
Round and round
So many doors not open,
There is a key I'm hoping...
It's strange to see in mirror's face
The glory roar and all mistakes,
Abandoned place.
More and more
Details and figures enter,
And blackhole in the centre...
Enemy wheels press me like bug,
Bloodshed in swing, voices in dark,
Chances to die rising like heat,-
Visions alive, dreamer won't quit.
Twilight Hall
© Copyright: Дитрих Даркер, 2016
Свидетельство о публикации №116050108831
Свидетельство о публикации №116050108831
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