A mysterious poem.

[Silven]

This is without editing, as it came to me while walking home from the club drunk as a skunk!

I recorded the poem on my phone and simply transcribed it.

I spoke this, as you read it.



Embers flying rich and rare
the glitch of an eternal flare
looking back upon ones life
nothing seems as well undone

as when one did once hope to plea
the unhappiness of eternal glee
that once and then one did perform
the glitch, of the eternal torn

wince and thou be at unrest
a looming dooming certain death
wrath of undertaking lord abide
wisdom come unto the side

of terror torn inside a cage
and writhed upon a certain page
doth wisdom once again find love?
no certainly ones time has finally come.