It hollows...
It destroys,
And employs.
The feeling,
it pursues.
It does not let me rest,
It will not stop until it has taken my breath,
At last.
Get away from me,I meep.
Be gone,I cast.
Than again I weep,
For her to be here,fast...
Extracting my soul from deep,
and taking my heart out of my chest.
As long as you can have me inside of your keep,
follow my guidance to the west,
There is the place my eyes will seek,
and in risk,I'll set my best,
To finally touch your mountain's peek,
I'll offer to be your guest.
The climb may be high,
As long as I reach the sky.
Oh my...
Of thy flaws I'd lie,
and in my own i'd die,
No words can defy,
Such a perfect being,
So here,I...
Stand tall with my pride,
My verse and might,
To judge wether I could or not have you for one single night.
Art - Charles Bauldelaire by Gustave Courbet.
The Lonely Poet,by:
Daniel Viana Alencar.
