Ere they went in dark robes.
For their secret combinations
To learn fair woes.
Whispers, rustles, speak in darkness cover.
Mist rising from her breath,
To aid the souls of lost boys.
Who seek freedoms captive.
It's not too late
It's not too late
To save the lost voices
We shadows of the night
Linger in the day.
We kiss, we prod, we watch thy way.
Time goes by yet in a blur.
A frozen white waste
Lies in wait.
To crown thy troubles
And bury thy sorrows.
While in this mist
A darkness rose.
In this life is belief.
Now I know this day is but a dream.
Life itself is all there is
To breath.
The dead poets society.
YOU ARE READING
Crystal Plains
Short StoryMany things can be said and written. Not many things tell the truth. Yet, the truth could be a lie, and a lie never told. Stories are both truth and lies. A story has ones soul but told in a way no one ever knows that's what it is. Crystal Plains i...
