Friday, April 30, 2010

Set me on a wet pyre
and kindle a candle below
let it be a scorching sunny day
see how my burnt blood flow

It might not be enough yet
to put off your rage
Try to put some petroleum then
or strike me hard and meet your vengence

I don't know what you hate
I don't know what you love
At night, you mourn the death of the nightangle
and in day, kill the white dove

My blood may not rinse your pain
but it will set me free
I am pissed off with the riddles
I just need the goddamn key

1 comment:

Just Me said...

Wow! What an amazing piece of writing. I love this poem. I love reading your blog. Thanks for sharing.