Treasure Island

Unic Cjonr

(Capriborn 73)

Black Burned Soul

By the road, I am gathered.
Lost to lost inside lust.
Not to my belongings.
Always to my emotional longing.
Soft does melt inside.
The pure whiteness presented by snow.
The heat measured by frost.
Alone by choice, easy to fake.
Break I do, the broken songs of Take.
Instructions received, at the voice.
The one which breaks the walls in my mind.
I assume.
By my choice.
Falling sounds by crystal clear flakes.
Stories became many, never to be told.
Death has a grip.
The knot to rope tied not to slip.
Breathe the chair.
Not one for a human care.
Hanged by the hand.
Hell has no chance.
Holier to stand on nomads land.
Bitter is the breath I hold.
Bitter is the breath I sold.
To breathe.
But to exhale my torn black burned soul.

Submitted: Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Edited: Thursday, August 15, 2013

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