Therapy Poem by Richard Lyne
Therapy
One more song to wash the sleep,
One more song to make them weep.
Upon the eve of ecstasy,
Entropy sends the knife in deep.
Deepness is as sleeplessness
Intertwined with helpless heads.
Upon the mount of anarchy,
That endlessness with nothing weds.
It calls you back and claims your chains
To rip you with those rusted reins.
But you know you’ll escape with me
From your place of painted pains.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/24/2024 8:20:44 AM # 1.0.0.1119
