The bruises and wounds of a world besieged,
For a column is forced to give a laugh,
To bare open its soul to get deceived,
Woe is the colour of a ball in half.
Bitter for sweet in a bowl for to drink,
Darkness is loose to pay evil for good,
To break down the broken and watch them sink,
Gazing at the cracks knitting on your mood.
Empty and heavy in single abode,
Thirst is forsaken troubled by sorrow,
Producing a cause to carry this load,
And fury is lord, judge of the 'morrow.
This thoughts that consumes and comes like a flood,
Would rise in your eyes and fall off as tears.
#El_Magnifico™
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