enero 11, 2019

Prick, at least


Thou sealed words with words
The mind is futile here
I see thee bare, weak
I don't reckon thee

My tongue is burning
My bones are trembling
My reason's crippled
My world lacks shape now

Prick

What are thou holding on to?
To the world or to God?
I feel wrong, evil
I've lost the right to you

Alone and bare I face you
I'm cold and mindful
And this is all I have
When time resumes

To put thyself together
And God be with thee
God be with me
God be with me

At least



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¡Gracias por tu tiempo y tus palabras!