Is it? Is it not? When you
Pick up your armour
And attack me with plaints
To others, in your heart
No love, but hatred of
A kind that eats into
Your soul; you gnaw
At the flesh, unable to
Forgive or seek forgiveness.
With forbearance I say
I am sky-bound, ready
To take off, fully sound;
Hell is in the place I dwell
Today; but tomorrow I sit
Atop a cloud, hell beneath me.
No comments:
Post a Comment