Poems to tell the poor faithed.

Scarlet

The air is thick, the wind is cold
The sea now looks just sheer and bold
Do angels up above us cry?
When strings are cut, when veins turn dry?
Too obvious, all the answer may seem
But nothing's sure, a scheme I teem
Perhaps my word's a bit too deep
But so are so are scars and wounds I keep
From all the teeth that's bared to me
From all my broken hopes; debris
When did lambs become so silent
When did numbers become so violent
For all I count are restless nights
The ones that's filled with dreamless sights
The air is thick, the wind is cold
The sea now looks just sheer and bold
I touched it but it feels so warm
My eyelid's heavy, so is my arm
Dark birds are coming, perhaps are crows
My head is spinning, my heart beats slow