After the storm-the bitter storm,
the tree of life-uprooted-looked so forlorn...
I've died many times
within poetry...
A cut is as good as a rose my sweet
No gesture of love could be as neat...
Darkness, all prevailing,
Empty halls, no more praying...
I wish I was a cloud,
So I could fade away...
Close your eyes
Take one breath...
Once,I stood upon a mountain.
Declaring, that I had defeated death...
Eyes closed,
standing still...
The rain pours down
in the dead of the night...
A child wakes at midnight
Scared out of his skin...
As I look in the mirror
What do I see...
The Exiles are the ones who threw everything away...
The ones who kill for pleasure, but regret it...