bad paris

bad paris

A Poem by winter;lyra

the windmill creaks
a voice of a thousand ghosts
held in limbo
stale and pillaged
atoned to the hill song
this is a dream
that has been dreamt before
a witch in the fire
and the knight by the stables
a shining star in the barren sky
why does it cry

is it so a fine day to die?

© 2019 winter;lyra


My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register




Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

38 Views
Added on June 9, 2019
Last Updated on June 9, 2019