look up to

colours that invade my eyes,thoughts that burn my desire, i
am nothing left more than a blind aura,still the winds want
me to fly.
the passions i have left so far ,the mercy i called fr within my
heart, all bestow on me undone, still blossms question me why
not like them.
each feel that tempted me, every wish that corrupted me, i
am no less than the devils wings, giving birth to anormous
sins,still the shadow acompanies me & wants to know my
belief.
though everything i built reflects upon me,i exist as a mirror
image,with cracks on it.

Reviews

[Maglia Weaver Twill]

What are we to see here and say? What a lovely expression, thanks for the writing of it...what a way to share this writing here which is like a gift to others writing here in this strange network of recalled realities