BENEATH
With the rage I seethe
When the hay was made in noon,
The blazing sights of my box
Seeming grey like cursed moon,
I shall drain the viscous magma
That can burst my brain soon,
Withstanding with this craze
My candle is just flickering tone,
Ah! The waving flag of my thoughts
Is chanting its funeral own
© rahie
When the hay was made in noon,
The blazing sights of my box
Seeming grey like cursed moon,
I shall drain the viscous magma
That can burst my brain soon,
Withstanding with this craze
My candle is just flickering tone,
Ah! The waving flag of my thoughts
Is chanting its funeral own
© rahie