A dusting of ash lines the dirt
Soot caking under mottled skin
A rumbling in the distance
A thundering from within
Hunger strikes a quivering need
Stumbling desire is forced to breed
A quaking soul bites back a whim
To sin, and sin and sin
YOU ARE READING
In the Garden Primeval, where I'll pray for you.
PoesíaI have a plan for you You'll deal with it all And with the weight of the world on your shoulders you'll face a fall People won't catch you Many times But I'll pray for you They'll come in time
