jurisprudent
01-21-2018, 09:45 AM
My sweet sweet dream child
The foggy mist of mornings gave birth to you
And filled your eyes with deep blueness
of oceans where whales dwell
The way you walk into this world is
a fiery charm that tolls a bell of desires
Your fingers touch and heal but also dissipate
The dream that surrounds you
permeates you and brings out
The odour of what a man may only hope to exist
And may search for it for half of his life
If found, the second half is like a floating on a narcotic river
If not found, the second half is like a constant guillotine
You dream child you flower of poison
I lost your hand
I beg for your hand
To hold it again
To never hold it again
Any exit is a tragedy.
The foggy mist of mornings gave birth to you
And filled your eyes with deep blueness
of oceans where whales dwell
The way you walk into this world is
a fiery charm that tolls a bell of desires
Your fingers touch and heal but also dissipate
The dream that surrounds you
permeates you and brings out
The odour of what a man may only hope to exist
And may search for it for half of his life
If found, the second half is like a floating on a narcotic river
If not found, the second half is like a constant guillotine
You dream child you flower of poison
I lost your hand
I beg for your hand
To hold it again
To never hold it again
Any exit is a tragedy.