If the sun produces no light
Why then, do I choose to fight?
Dark tendrels wrappeth themselves around me
But depictions of my imagination, they be
I speaketh from a forgotten soul
Overlooked like a cracked tree's knoll
Regrets flash for split seconds
But sad monotony beats like a drum
My spirit bled dry, my body remains
Don't you cry, you still remain
When I am gone
You will learn this lesson
When I am gone
You will know what must be done
When I am gone
No comments:
Post a Comment