My room is dark - no candlelight
No dinners that are served tonight
Once in a while I hear them sing
Until the night has settled in.
No sleep will come - oh dreadful night!
Why do you hold your grasp so tight?
You snicker in my dearest ears
and infiltrate my deepest fears.
Your hand is cold - of broken ice
You lift your voice - your song will rise
To a crescrendo to strike me blind
Of words, of rhymes and volta lines
In silent gloom still sitting here
Night whispers: give up your career!
What is a man - what is a word?
Choose right and you still will be heard!
30.05.2005
All rights belong to its author. It was published on e-Stories.org by demand of Claudio Micale.
Published on e-Stories.org on 09/19/2005.
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