The cloud of judgment follows as I pace the humanity right above.
How I desire I was able to witness the lords white dove.
The aroma of death surrounds my thick air.
What horrid I was now bestowed, so beyond fair.
The rain pours upon the gravel hiding my tears.
All the pain and hurt catching me, my fears.
Can no longer be bright never to see the light.
Use to all the torment and pain I lastly have no fright.
By: Misa Aname
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem