POEM X

The melancholy of one's heart
With tales untold
Drives down like a hatchet
On Thou tortured soul

Was not she who promised
To lift Thou of guilt
To free from the constraints
That Thou carefully built

Lady Love ye blind Thou
With gentle words of whisper
Encape Thou in a black looming fog
Can Thou never kiss her

Thy heart is dead
Thy soul gone cold
Death Thou beckon
Ye great entity of old

Thy hour groweth late
Thy time haveth come
Blood soak the heavens
Thy body goes numb.....

~sorrow x~