Jodekss and Damin
As the misty morning veers turning time to night
lay I on my back in cold might
Rolling and tumbling and whirling and flapping like a kite
In the face of the sky, thinking about one wonderful spiteful light.
But who’s my minstrel to me… o, you voices past lovely tales assist!
I am lost and missed in a fog and flame’s fight to figure
Why have ’em, cherubs in their glorious fervour left me this gore?
As the pains of her affectation pokes my sour and curse me to thirst.
© Jodekss and Damin