The Stranger - Poem by Maciej Drzymala
crawls into the forgotten city,
his dull world destroyed, only dust
on his hopeless face reflects pure flawless lillies.
His wide-opened chest paints the forgotten city red,
tears tear apart his ripped and scarred heart,
but its beating imitates angel's wings
Cast away with contempt,
sacrilegious streets pushing him to Golghota,
carrying his own cross he takes a rest on a white stone.
His life like seeking window bars in a torture chamber,
The Shining God powerless fighting a blindman,
not knowing of being alone,
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You