Take me above the seven skies,
To the land of figs, the land of pies
Where no soul weeps and no orphan cries,
the sacred place where no mom dies,
there no man loots and no man lies,
where happiness is the utmost forever prize,
and the well of blessings never dries,
I'm going above the seven skies.
I'm going to the Paradise.
***
YOU ARE READING
Final Throes Of The Unfurling
Poesie"I strived to rise but every rise has a fall, I quit, I quit and that's all." Just a bunch of emotions sucked by the pen and bled on the pages. Can be seen in the dried marks on the pillow, Dark hollows of rapidly blinking eyes, And the corners of...
