The Failure Of A Thousand Poets Poem by Lady Lilith

Desire we have known before,
for the soul there is no protection,
fear slips in through the backdoor.
Did Emily meant the hearts affection?
The voice of the devil is more friendly, I can tell!
He did not rhyme or whisper: All we need to know of hell…
It was frail humanity,
a poets insanity.

It looks like the sun but it is not warming.
Its you, trying to warm a cold shinny object.
And to such a thing you know you can not connect.
Forlorn their hearts, they are no more but knifes,
a shadow of what is a life.
They can not feel...
anything that appears to be real.
If that was love,
You should curse everything above,
and kill all on the ground.
Because we do not wish anything to be bound
by their beliefs and this state.
It is grief, it is forsaken of all fate.

We just saw the coldness of a soul
and it drew us... to fill a fox hole.
Is that a challenge?
It is like warming the south pole:
an imbalance.
So here is the space we need,
we parture… because we bleed,
we bleed because we are human,
we are human because we are fire,
although we are not the sun,
we have desire,
to be loved and love someone.