Effigy, mourn for no one.
Not this hollow peace, this obsidian shade,
love's unfolding morose crusade;
a sapience lost, among this quadruple two,
Who arms themselves with the limbs of flowers?
Tragedy strikes at birth's first hour.
in tombs so shallow,
drenched in gold,
they find their fears
face down, untold.
No comments:
Post a Comment