The Source of sorrow bears a treacherous form
Morose with such a solemn look
Deep disdain for those who keep
Misery for what past blows they took
And so despise the countless hours where lay
Some soulful feat to come what may;
And trespass through the broken gates
Where sorrow dwells and lies and waits.
Awaken all! Redemption's near.
Bring along hope that won't borrow fear.
Hypnotic realms we trespass on
Seek to tatter our dreams before the dawn.
Sweet embrace of tender light,
I look up to see your face;
To brighten up with warm delight
And leave the gloom without a trace.
~ Malea Renee Miller ~
Copyright © 2006
[ by: Malea Renee Miller Copyright © 2006 (firstname.lastname@example.org) -- submitted by Malea Renee Miller ]