oh how tragic the sound of grey,
shrouding my eyes, my stinging eyes.
oh how lonesome the smell of touch,
drifting further away into the realm of the forgotten.
oh how foolish the taste of hope,
endless petals; so limp, fallen, dead; on the ground.
oh how painful the sight of you.
YOU ARE READING
twelve moons
Поэзия"Unfathomable Sea! whose waves are years, Ocean of Time, whose waters of deep woe Are brackish with the salt of human tears!"
