Hymn Of Throe
It's easy to try,
There's no use to cry
It's time to wipe the
Tears till dry
From fire to ashes
Gust of wind blow with howl
Wings of flame brings me fame
All I have are satchel of blames
Blow me cold,
Hold me still
Pills I have will make me ill
All I need is stains of grieve
Hymn of throe
Scud with thorns
Lift me up with
Rueful of hate
Slit me deep
Make me weep
Hymn of throe
Will repose me blithe
poem by Amir Amzah
Added by Poetry Lover
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