May I Lay Poem by Louis Borgo

May I Lay,
For the flowers of my descendedants,
moving on and growned of those
distance dreams.
'May I Lay? '
Chorus of a whole that does not know any more,
good and held over permitted yet sound for borrow,
'May I Lay'
Swallow my spit, tormented and yet stand to sit,
sallow skin torn,
to lit of pit, 'Contented'
I hold eyes too condemned to pain and aliment,
'May I Lay? '
For the salt that know's the deepest grimes,
of the sweetest two pairs of the most beautiful eye coming of tears...
'May I Lay'
Loyalty that knows no blind, hasted ready and sick,
founding pace to draw that wicked weak
taste back,
but to keep in mind
this sword stand strong,
'May I Lay'
for the sight and sorrows of my unbirth
Child I ask,
'May I Lay? '
God knows of only the madness that strays in sight
and preach in might,
but peace is in reach to say,
So they say so,
'May I Lay'