For your poems.
The blade gleams in the moonlight
A drop of cursed blood spilt at night
On to the dirt and the mud where it feels right
And tears from an empty husk mix with the blood and mud at dusk
The thoughts flow like water, getting caught in the rapids of this martyr
One less life to plague the earth
From ashes to ashes and from dirt to dirt
Perhaps one day someone will learn
The call of a thousand muffled voices
He can’t tell the difference between the memories and the ghosts toying with him
He can’t hear reality’s call, so subtle and soft in […]
