Intentionally drunk

44 1 0
                                    

Shattering is the sole gloom I could have,
Trembling on a drop,
Burning with a grape-taste wave,
Stirred, brain in bend of blank rope.
Such as piles of empty under a chair,
Moaning letters I could never shout
Alas——day light is near,
a burning bloom is time being out.
How dare I hate to be devoured?
Showering in red shall be a bless.
When a imperial tops on blood,
Sunflowers only dare wake in darkness.
Be quick, run while the night is still on,
Voice reborn, in an endless tone.

(This is a poem about freedom of speech. A critique from utopian perspective to nowadays people's fear of speaking for their soul. True words should never speak until one's are drunk, it is pathetic)

Tigress from the eastWhere stories live. Discover now