Were do we go . . .
razorblades . . .
cutting my senses
Oceans of fears
drowning
in blood
black birds
circling over me
feast on my bones
Happy away
in heaven I stay
sending a pray
to everyone . . .
that you shall found
your spiritual ground
before you leave
dead and profound
bones and blood
soul flights to the sun
before you run
to the messenger of death
open your blind eyes
and look and thrust
eternity is not for ghost's
Poetry by Dan Cederholm
Read 458 times
Written on 2006-11-01 at 18:43
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