Note
I'm seeing people suffer through my writings here so I'm gonna give you a handy info before writing this.
This poem is based on a real practice during medieval times..
The 'choir' is you know the classic orchestra thingy in olden times and is still there..
Classic music is alive.
So to keep the high-pitched voice of the boys in singing they castrated them so they can have ever flexible voice. And ya castrated or emasculated means to cut of the male organs like testes..
they are also known as castrato
Now u got the hint!
Let's start it's gonna be good don't be terrified that practice was banned in 18th century....
Ya long time fellas
—————————————-
I'm stuck in this voice cellar
Singing a vocal cord..
Handing so flexible
Singing "my love..I'm yours"
Entreat me to come accord with this?
Because music is entranced
I sing for her, a maiden great who will not vow to make a wed-gown
I scream my heartbeats out because love just fell from grace....
I look at her and decide cuz I can't touch her braids
When I was quarter
A fella of young face,
They took away those Lil pulse that differs me and that case
They threw it all in a cascading bag saying now sing this again
Because now the bloodshed keeps on cuz love can't kiss her face..
The anger I had implying now it took it all in days
I can scream and cry still singing songs of her when she'd be engaged
The bright here darkens now cuz this castrato has left this wage
He tries to rush in the stalls where the maiden rings all grace
Now the moments halt in faith malice and doom
The truth has darken on un-lad daze
Which is trying to unzip the the lace
And here it's cast a voice of riot
I'm here dying in a professor's gaze
And now
Alas
I say once more
Pitty that I can't hold her wrist
Kiss her lips
And touch that crest
Mark her fists
A voice of lass a heart of gists
Dancing this lil balled
Be safe my maiden
I say atlast
Not the lad you hoped the Alice
But if you hath choose me in past
I would actually be there to gloat
Sorry no corpse can't tell
What I should say but gloat
Here I vain
In you cuz I shall
Dream of you till I'm drained
- To the lad of roses and the one I can't touch
YOU ARE READING
Scribbled tears
PoetryWhen I cry I write, when I feel lonely I quote , when I feel the crimson sun banishing my Scarlet mind into the abyss I sing. This is basically a poem's book. But it may contain some songs I wrote n quotes .... so its all my writings here You will...
