I know why you act so dull,
whenever the wind of sorrow blows,
thus, make the sorrow cull,
'nd filter them in your nose

calm down and chill,
the fears will soon halt,
yet, stop growing like hill,
worry not, it is not your fault

the unethical beads plant it,
yet, permit them to grow with us,
they watered it morning, day and night,
with their bitter fruits to wax

O, the wind of grief stormed,
the land,
oozing its death in rage,
with battalions souls crying inside their cage

as no help to save their health,
O, they leave in fear, tears,
'nd death,
in fearful trill they curse the kings

weep and fear no more,
a day shall cometh when the crown expires,
'nd in gaiety, we shall welcome a kind crown,
who shall stop all these tempest

THE POET
ENYIS SHAKES

© Enyis Shakes