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When the moon cries

Contributed by drowninginkarma on Sunday, 8th May 2005 @ 09:34:26 AM in AEST
Topic: Lifepoems

Upon the wine of the new fallen moon,
There lay about heart wounded with ruin,
With the cry of the new founded mourning saddness,
Men aligned unprepared for a game of devil maddness,
THere may only be one lucky answer,
With death by word, and most chance of cancer,
Do you choose to move forward, or choose to stay back,
Will you turn the hungary color of purple, blue, or black?
The walk is a shame, only to be taunted,
With the souls of others becomming moody haunted,
Pace by pace they fall to teh ground,
Others run alive hoping liberation to be found,
But if they are caught searching for that day,
All of their hearts are left aside to be slain,
To die is a gift, to live is a punish,
As any small spirits begin to cist and vanish,
Life is a game, all must soon play,
Losing will kill with utter delay,
To torture the helpless is easy as won,
Who will have rescued, all but no one.

Copyright © drowninginkarma ... [ 2005-05-08 09:34:26]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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