He made me foul
An avenge I need
It was a prophecy
That life exude.
We conferred alas
As a tempest blow
At a grove path
A shroud glow.
Wreath he showed
And a veil along.
He asked to guess
To where he belong.
As a jesty play
I scornfully say,
It is a lofty concept
Go there and lay.
About the Author
Comments