DramatisPersonae Posted January 19, 2006 Report post Posted January 19, 2006 There are four walls, that entrap But not my eyes, nor my head In the dusky world they trap But one heart, long left dead. And between a light shines Mostly grief it pale sheds Searing eyes, mostly blind With the scent of the dead. The air here is old and fusty, Like the one in misty moor Vizen flowers, and hands dusty Makes the sunlight seem so poor. While the shadows on walls creep Aptly dancing playes of sleep Inside my grave, where I used to dream Reckoning cognition of my present being. And so it came to be... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
Elizabeth Posted January 20, 2006 Report post Posted January 20, 2006 pretpostavljam da je ovo, kao i druge stvari koje si sad pre koji dan postavio, iz ranijeg perioda tvog vrlog zivota? Share this post Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
DramatisPersonae Posted January 20, 2006 Report post Posted January 20, 2006 jes, mog VRLOG zivota... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites More sharing options...
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