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by brosis Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Poetry · Tragedy · #1586799
about being in a lost world and despair to be saved
Innocent

Cold, but real as engraved angels
sometimes appear in the churchyard
did you cast away the sun
that the moon no longer lights up

Now the roses rising in the garden
will be black with thorns
with juice bitter as poison
when we make them grow to beauty

For the birds that come here
all become of ill omen
and see, how they die
a painful and lonely death

But you see, our fingers are the flames
which keeps the fire inside burning
when the body is already blackened
and the spirit turned back to ashes

When we feel like nothing more but dust

Our voices have been crying out
from this dark place, to you
and hear, the drum that plays
to guide us toward the light

Like a rain of dead Saints
calling in despair for their Father
to come, and save like in ancient times
‘Have mercy Lord, we are only children’

For sinners preach; “do not have faith
hope will be gone at sunset – it will fade
faster than the clouds disappear in darkness
to a place of distance, a place of silence

And do not try to find the truth
hide it away in all the favourite colours
time, time and colour will get wasted
and the truth – will still be a lie...”
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