Oh, how I longed for thy touch,
Rot of my soul! In yesteryear’s night,
Tarnished, I slit my wrists to leave a trail
A ritual thread, a call, a hopeless wail.
That thou might catch my suffocating breath,
And trace the scent of looming death.
Yet there thou art entangled in spells,
Midst skulls and laughter, cursed in wells,
Blind to the nerve-ends, dulled to pain,
Stained with tales writ in vein.
But thou never didst look back,
Not once, to see the dread.
LatinosUSA 
Replica a Nathi Cancelar la respuesta