Wells
Sky above, dirt beneath...
Walls of stone darkened grief.
Wet her feet, dress is torn,
Tears drip from her eyes of scorn.
Wander back and fourth around...
The same old spots of pointless ground...
Looking up the shaft of hate,
Living in her twisted fate.
Blood and nails... the walls make love.
Seek escape, to flee above.
Out of reach, a hopeless hole,
Sit in grief… a lost vexed soul.
Yielding thus, deep dark depression.
Kick in mud... laborious obsession.
Never contemplate the fact.
Of that rope and bucket right behind her back.
AE Version 3.5
Copyright ©2004 Ty Horveath
Walls of stone darkened grief.
Wet her feet, dress is torn,
Tears drip from her eyes of scorn.
Wander back and fourth around...
The same old spots of pointless ground...
Looking up the shaft of hate,
Living in her twisted fate.
Blood and nails... the walls make love.
Seek escape, to flee above.
Out of reach, a hopeless hole,
Sit in grief… a lost vexed soul.
Yielding thus, deep dark depression.
Kick in mud... laborious obsession.
Never contemplate the fact.
Of that rope and bucket right behind her back.
AE Version 3.5
Copyright ©2004 Ty Horveath
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