Turmoil

by Jun 10, 2003Poetry

Oft the pale cold chill of dawn
Lingers in this land,
And if I died then who should mourn,
For I live by the sword in my hand.

Ere the curtain of night is sweapt
O’er the field and the plain,
The songs by fire reveal secrets kept,
And still no one understands my pain.

And harsh may I seem, to stranger and friend,
I cannot liveth so this life,
And ever will I live and die to the end,
And fall on their self inflicted strife.

0 Comments

Submit a Comment

Found in Home 5 Reading Room 5 Poetry 5 Turmoil

You may also like…

The Dead Marshes.

The dead marhes through the eyes of a child who witnessed it. Though it may be your initial reponse, please keep in mind that it is not based off any real characture from Lord of the Rings. I made this one all up. Please comment.

read more