As I close my eyes to write......
As the night falls upon the vented sky
A new thought arises in the depths of my mind
In darkness,the isolation yearns for sport
My heart squeezed, contorted is a pleasure to me
What causes the casualty of an allotted question?
Perhaps the form of another in the deepest depression?
My outlook is bitter to the end of a day
The night formed, delays, to a poet at bay
As she write upon a grave, desecrating remains
I remain lost in my dream-scape, simple and plain.
A new thought arises in the depths of my mind
In darkness,the isolation yearns for sport
My heart squeezed, contorted is a pleasure to me
What causes the casualty of an allotted question?
Perhaps the form of another in the deepest depression?
My outlook is bitter to the end of a day
The night formed, delays, to a poet at bay
As she write upon a grave, desecrating remains
I remain lost in my dream-scape, simple and plain.
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