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Jun 10, 2008
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Sonnet 4
I thought the time was young, but yet so old
It turns to me with its sadistic face,
And all the stories are today untold
As in my mind the sorrow has no place.
But hurry now, because the spark is ill
Like some archaic plagues that burst away;
With courage near and shadow I shall kill
A humble voice of arrows to a grey
Salvation from the holy snow shaped beard.
The root of god is whiter than a cloud,
So we are worms: that's what I'd always feared,
But I destroyed the suffering and proud
I'll put my name in front of priest and saint
For I shall stay a soul who does not faint.
It turns to me with its sadistic face,
And all the stories are today untold
As in my mind the sorrow has no place.
But hurry now, because the spark is ill
Like some archaic plagues that burst away;
With courage near and shadow I shall kill
A humble voice of arrows to a grey
Salvation from the holy snow shaped beard.
The root of god is whiter than a cloud,
So we are worms: that's what I'd always feared,
But I destroyed the suffering and proud
I'll put my name in front of priest and saint
For I shall stay a soul who does not faint.
— Unlight, Jun 10, 2008
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Critiques
RSScheerer
17 years 12 months ago
Another solid
Barbara Writes
17 years 12 months ago
I thought the time
weirdelf
17 years 11 months ago
You are superb in this form
pinksheep
17 years 11 months ago
I thought
Janice Pearce
17 years 6 months ago
Sonnet 4
Unlight
17 years 6 months ago
Janice, you are too kind, as
weirdelf
17 years 6 months ago
“little morbid” to
Ink Dragon
17 years 5 months ago
How did I miss this one?