23 de Marzo 2004

one

May the land of despair be
crossed by turtling doves
or might my hopes be
flying away from wishing.

A path, that is not yet to be walked,
will be open,
and so the watchtower
will shot the guests;

none,
but one, shall remain,
barefoot and stained,
facing the undefined.

Escrito por Artemisa a las 23 de Marzo 2004 a las 01:39 AM
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