As walking barefoot through the garden my spider has built
Tangling in a devious dance his web for me to envy it,
To get through all seven deadly sins that would not consume my flesh
But mind and soul altogether as I would seek my only,
I have reached with skin wet and moist as nature confused me with its canvas
Of life and Death that it paints with a mischievous rhythm
Like a screech of violin Paganini would play as sad as
The moment Gods ambrosia would turn them into demons with a sip
To the pearly gates that mind can't comprehend.
And how could my soul, twisted from love even perceive
The gift of kindness only omnipotence could design
Like a spider in a garden that Death will soon receive?
YOU ARE READING
Something I can't tell
PoetryI don't know why I wrote a fricking long poem and at this moment I am afraid to ask myself because I wouldn't like the answer. Hopefully, "Something I can't tell" won't turn into a sequel because someone should check if I am still myself and not som...
