Before Your Judgement

O, ye the bright sky summon thee
Before the crimson light forsake nil,
With the numb cloud morosely still,
So does the teardrop– warmish will,
Lightening’  a little or with a pickle seed
More with the mire of pain was buried
Before the night cripples,
Memory lapse,
Then days after days after days, it never ceased
Your  feelings and humor trend’s in dust,
Perished in darkness thy thought
And summoned for judgement thy rot.



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