For the time being vision In the grounds of belittled dark prison Smells nothn but the stare! Hate Mourning on his faith The burnt soul had water it fled Closing the eyes still nowanting to fight.... Flashing back the memoirs The dooms n the demurs Hope the work of rising crane Ice to the last buring flame
© Copyright 2016 Zahir. All rights reserved.
Poem / Commercial Fiction
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