Washed by the flow
Blown by the wind
Lady in a robe
Beauty in skin-deep
But beauty is a curse
In either eyes or words
Shall not renounce its devotee
But there's a poison in the air niggling
What shall live
Or what shall give
Beauty to adhere?
Heart to hear?
YOU ARE READING
Echoes Of The Dead Poets
Poetry"Dark inks on dark secrets, full of wonders and ends, thoughts of the night of murky life." ©cover not mine
