Woe! A storm unlike no other
Approaches closer each passing moment.
It's need a debt to gather
I wonder why we bother
To love and search
For the scantest of hope
When hopelessness shakes the door,
And uproots us to the core,
Then death is almost upon us
To deliver Elysium to we
Who gave it all up
But are still undeserving.
CZYTASZ
Song Of The Muses.
PoezjaErato, ancient keeper of the golden arts . Whisper tales from eons lost. Remind us mortals of stories lost throughout the ages ,remembered only by you,the muses.
