Thursday, September 7, 2006
...And Born Of Light
Come here, small Angel, I can’t see the light.
Come here, little winged, and show me what’s right.
My heart is not ready, my eyes are tired.
My thoughts are diverged, against me conspired.
Patience is dying, I’ve seen it’s grey eyes.
I will watch it as it carefully dies.
Alone in the darkness, shadows abound.
Take me from the poison grip I have found.
Come here, small Angel, and teach me to fight.
My muscles are drained, I’ve fallen for night.
I’ve found a new reason for wanting death.
Teach me to forget with my final breath.