Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site


Tags: Rome, Nero, Lyre


What an artist dies in me.


Submitted:Feb 13, 2012    Reads: 13    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


The fire burns, the fire burns,

In my dreams, I toss and turn,

In my room, I sit and fiddle,

As the world figures out my riddle,

The fire spreads, the fire spreads,

I play my Lyre, for those who are dead,

And when destruction finally ceases,

I bring my thoughts and put back the pieces,

The Christians, for they deserve the fear,

Their screams and cries, this joy I haven't seen in years.

I'm just like my Uncle, I love a good laugh,

As I have mother killed, for standing in my path.

My life goals, what I long to be,

Oh how I wish you were there, so you could see,

It is a great loss. What an artist dies in me.





0

| Email this story Email this Poetry | Add to reading list



Reviews

About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.