Turn Poem by Kampanje Aubrey

In these hollow seclusions, and an awful cell
Are we a burning log reducing to ash?
Heaven seems so bored to watch over our fragile selves
And to grey we turn, turn, our day is done

How is it that we are so easily broken,
Our leaves shaken down with lies?
We can try to ignore the hurricane
It's all the same, I'll be losing you by and by

Now in the gray west hangs the red sun
And you grab the grip of our bow, and firmly lay
Your merciless fingers on the black strand
And turn this love into an arrow of insanity