Frail

Wrongful lot Struggling to maintain my mind
In its awful status I am giving up,
trying to fight But nothing worth fighting for
Killing my soul; drag my body
to light I am nothing but a moth roaming
around Immolation,
is all that I'm avoiding Playing with strong winds
But my wings, so frail Cracking my mind,
Words that I lost from my spirit
Crying out, lost path Snow falling,
calm dawn
Worn out flying So,
I'm walking down among arbors Looking
at fair dawn's sky Full of colors,
a whit of glow rising
Wan blossoms, waiting for morning rain
To fall down at its crown Drops of acid
thawing my dawn At my last thorough
lump Ruins in my mind's rooms
I am waking up slowly Cold and snow knocking my door
Killing my birds of Prophecy
I want to fly away again Dry my wings again
Drawn into my imaginary world
again And, cry again and again and again.

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